


Equilibrium

by BreakerBroken



Series: Safeguard [3]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Creepy, F/M, Fight the demons, Forgotten memories return, Wardens in the Modern World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 46,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreakerBroken/pseuds/BreakerBroken
Summary: ***COMPLETED*** (Finally!)Balance must be restored, but how? And at what cost?Second continuation of Safeguard - Salome’s story. ~BreakerBrokenNOTE: All of the writing that is underlined indicates that those lines of dialogue are from the original games/media. Those lines belong to their original writers and creators.
Relationships: Alistair/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Safeguard [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974064
Comments: 42
Kudos: 20





	1. It Calls

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins after [chapter 59 "And Yet..."](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25018300/chapters/65050513) in Safeguard.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world falls down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

It was going well. _Really_ well.

Well enough that she was thinking about using the 'boyfriend' term for him.

She added flour and sugar and butter together and switched the mixer on, letting it go as she stirred the cooling strawberry preserves. Baking on one of her days _off_ work wasn't new. It was nice when she could make something in a small batch with all the time she needed.

She was going to have breakfast with him in the morning, before he started his shift at the fire station. She'd bring him the heart-shaped, strawberry Jammy Dodgers in a box, enough to share at the station if he felt like it. She wanted to give them to him when she asked him if he wanted to be her...

_Christ_ it was so fucking _cheesy_ _!_ She stood alone in her kitchen at ten at night, blushing the same shade as the jam. Paprika grunted at her feet, always begging for scraps, the little fatty.

She switched the mixer off and began rolling the dough out, wondering if he would like the cookie this time as much as he had the first time. Maybe more, given the finer modern ingredients compared to the coarse medieval ones she had used while trapped in Thedas.

If it was him.

It wasn't.

It _couldn't_ be.

She was so tempted to think of him as the same person she had left behind in Thedas. In essence, he _was_. Same looks, same voice, same personality. But in practical terms, he _was_ different from his video game alter-ego.

Was it an 'alter-ego' if it was maybe the same person? 'Dimensional-twin' might be the better term...if that's what he was.

He had an entire life at the fire station with her brother and the other firefighters. He had a favorite restaurant, a favorite beer, a favorite band t-shirt. He'd discovered all these favorites within the year he could remember before they met. Well, met _again_. Maybe.

There was the temptation again. To assume it _was_ him. As far as she could figure out, he had woken up in the hospital with amnesia one day after she had the dream. A social worker had interviewed him and set him on the path to the fire station.

To her.

It was exactly like a rom-com trope, straight out of a Hallmark movie. She briefly thought that it _was_ the plot of at least one Hallmark movie.

She used metal cookie cutters to get the right shapes and set them on cookie sheets, putting them in the oven. She started cleaning up what she could, taking sips from coffee she definitely shouldn't have been drinking that late at night.

She pulled the cookie sheets from the oven and almost dropped them when someone started pounding on her door. Heavy fists rapidly pummeled the thick wooden door.

" _Shit_ , what the fuck?!" Paprika tucked his tail and darted towards the back of the kitchen, barking worriedly. "Paprika, it's okay, shhhh. _Hang on a second!_ " She threw the oven mitts on the counter and put her eye to the peephole. Alistair was standing on her porch, pounding on her door.

The pounding stopped when she unlocked the door, and she opened it to see him breathless, eyes wide, face pale. His hair was a mess, and he was in the band t-shirt he liked and gym shorts and _barefoot_.

"Alistair? What are you-"

" _I remember._ "

They stood there, staring at each other. The peeps of small frogs filled the humid night air, magnifying their mutual silence.

Shit.

Shit shit _shit_.

She should never have leant him the game.

_Fuck_.

What should she say to him? What _could_ she say? Did it count as lying or keeping a secret if she thought she was imagining things? If she thought it was all some hyperactive rom-com fever dream that she had to constantly push away and tell herself wasn't real?

Was he going to start shouting? Waving his arms around? He'd better not punch a hole in one of her walls, she _hated_ that particular story trope.

He couldn't punch a hole in her wall until she invited him inside.

She opened the door wider and started to reach for him.

He swept her up in his arms.

He was breathing way too fast.

He'd wrapped her up in his arms, but she was the one holding him.

"I'm so sorry, Alistair. I'm so sorry, fuck, _fuck_ , I thought it was just a dream then you showed up and it seemed totally crazy for it to be _you_ , I'm..." She squeezed him as hard as she could, which was probably not a good idea when he was almost hyperventilating and needed all the air he could get.

She loosened her grip on him slowly, enough to pull him through the doorway with one hand and reach the other out to shut the door. Alistair let himself be led to the couch. He sat with his head in his hands. Paprika waddled over, his tail up and wagging at the person he'd seen a few times before. He started licking Alistair's ankle over and over again. Paprika was a weird dog.

This situation was weirder.

Alistair reached a distracted hand down and patted Paprika on the back while Salome got him a glass of water. That's what people did when other people were upset. That and tea, but tea could wait until the immediate panic had passed. She sat next to him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, a bittersweet feeling coming over her when he reached his hand up to place it over hers.

Eventually Alistair spoke. "I remember." Salome stayed quiet, letting him talk. "I remember the Fade. I remember standing by your side. We were supposed to face Nightmare together. You got Cole to take me back. I watched Halea seal that Rift."

"I'm sorry." Because what the fuck else could she possibly say?

" _I don't know how I got here, Salome._ " He looked up at her. She saw panic, and fear, and exhaustion. "Halea sealing the Rift is the last thing I remember before waking up in that hospital." His eyes widened. "I know what a hospital is. And I know how the wounded were treated in Thedas. People fought fires with buckets in Thedas and get hoses here. _There are cars_. There's so much swirling in my head right now, I can't tell what's real."

Paprika grunted up at him when Alistair lifted his hand to cradle his head instead of continuing to pat the chihuahua mutt. He snorted and made his way up the cushioned stair set, stretching two paws into his lap hopefully.

"Shit..."

"It gets worse," he croaked, his throat tight.

"How the fuck could it possibly get worse?!"

"I saw it." She held her breath. "It didn't _say_ anything to me, but I _saw_ it, Salome. In my..." He laughed suddenly. "The word 'apartment' just fought with 'quarters' in my head. I saw...I saw myself in that, that _game_ , and then it was on my ceiling, cracking it and spreading. Disappeared as fast as it appeared."

"I thought we were done with that _fucker_. Shit shit shit shit _shit god FUCKING dammit_."

She stood up and walked into the kitchen, getting a glass of water for herself and slurping at it, her hands shaking. She stared at the half-assembled Jammy Dodgers. The oven was still on, waiting for round two. Baking them for a scant few minutes after applying the jam was her little secret to making the jam truly gooey.

She started assembling the cookies. That manic energy was back, the kind that kept her up all night and made her limbs shaky, and channeling it towards _something_ always helped.

A heavy quiet fell over them, the clink of a metal spoon against a glass bowl and Paprika's grunts the only sounds keeping it from being total silence.

The cookies went on the trays, and the trays went back in the oven. Salome drank down two more glasses of water in the few minutes they baked, then took them out again. She slid them onto the wire cooling racks she had set out, putting two onto a plate and taking it back to the couch. She winced as the plate made a clattering sound on the coffee table.

Alistair raised his head, looking at the plate, and looked down again, covering his mouth with his hand. Salome sat next to him, their knees touching.

"I was going to ask you to be my boyfriend at breakfast."

He slid his hand around hers, reaching for one of the cookies.

"I would've said yes. Still would," he smirked a bit, seeming to calm slightly. He bit into the cookie. "Don't take this the wrong way, but _these_ are much better than the ones you made in Thedas. Not that I didn't love them, of course."

She chuckled and leaned her head on his shoulder, reaching for the other cookie. "That's fair." She sighed. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I'm a man adrift in a world where I'm a character in a story. I haven't a clue, I'm afraid." He stopped and looked at her. "I...probably shouldn't Google myself, should I..."

"I wouldn't recommend it...unless you want too see a lot of art and stories about you. And a good amount of it would probably kill you from embarrassment." He looked at her in confusion. "Do you _want_ to look at artistic representations of yourself as a naked pinup?"

Blush spread across his face and down his neck and he laughed nervously. "Ah, no, probably not ready for that yet." He squeezed her hand. "Think we can...sleep on it? Wait to figure it out until tomorrow?"

"That seems like a good idea. Do you..."

In this world, they weren't at this point in their relationship.

But in Thedas, they'd spent a night together in each other's arms.

He cleared his throat. "I think I'd very much prefer _not_ to go back to my place for the night. If...if that's alright."

She lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles. "Of course it is. You did it for me."

He sighed, exhausted. "Sleep sounds wonderful."

She put him in her bed, going back to the kitchen to finish the last bit of cleanup and storing the rest of the cookies in a glass container. Her mind whirled with what to do, settling on nothing.

By the time she made it back, he was asleep and snoring as loudly as he had in Thedas. She curled up next to him, head on his shoulder, and spent the rest of the night awake and worried.

One eye on the ceiling, looking for tendrils.


	2. Morning Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where do you even begin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Alistair~

He woke before the sun came up. He looked beside him and saw Salome wide awake and staring at the ceiling suspiciously.

"Did you get _any_ sleep?" He sat up and leaned his back against the cushioned headboard of her bed.

She shook her head tiredly. "Nope, but I also didn't see any wiggling cracks in the ceiling."

"That's...good?"

She sighed. "Maybe. If it showed up we could try to ask questions. That thing's got enough arrogance that we could've probably tricked it into revealing all its plans."

"Like a Bond villain." He rubbed his hands over his face. "I know what a Bond villain is."

He remembered characters from Varric's books, and from movies he'd seen here. He remembered how fur bed coverings felt, and was currently half-under a puffy cotton one. He couldn't deny there were many amenities in this world that made life much easier - and often more complicated - than it was in Thedas. That he could walk through a doorway and imagine a room from either world simultaneously almost made him dizzy.

"Still want to go to breakfast?" She looked up at him, hair puffed up in bunches around her head.

"Right, breakfast. Before my shift. At the fire station. Maker, what a mess...do I even go in? I should, right? I can't leave them short-handed."

"I think you should plan to go in like normal. We can make a plan at breakfast, and I've got the day off, so I could go...consult? Someone? I can't think this early without coffee. And pancakes. And bacon and eggs and hashbrowns." She flung the covers off and sprung out of bed. He stared at her, weirdly amused. "What? If I don't literally jump out of bed before I can think about it, I'll never get up."

"And here I thought you were excited to get started planning...something...what will we plan, exactly?"

"Nope, nope, too early for this shit, breakfast needs to be on a table in front of me first and _then_ we can figure it out."

He appreciated her practicality, as did his stomach.

She insisted that he wait for her while she got ready so they could go to his apartment together. They arrived to find that his ceiling was also crack-free, but he was glad to know he wasn't there alone, just in case. By the time he had showered and changed, it was almost a decent hour to head to the 24/7 diner they had planned to meet at _before_ his memories were unlocked.

The planning began as soon as large plates loaded with all sorts of breakfast foods were set in front of both of them. Thoughts of the difficulty in getting food in Thedas, brief and unbidden, flashed through his head before he pushed them back. He had to focus.

"So, the last thing you remember in Thedas is the Rift in Adamant Fortress getting sealed?" Salome asked around a mouthful of eggs and potatoes. Even on their first date in _this_ world, she'd never bothered to eat daintily, and he loved her for it. Especially because it meant _he_ didn't have to eat daintily, either.

Except for charcuterie boards. They both savored those in either world.

_Focus_.

He doused pancakes in maple syrup and nodded. "And the first thing I remember after that is waking up in the hospital."

"Did they ever tell you why you were in there? Were you in an accident?"

He shoved pancake into his mouth and chewed, thinking. "I remember them saying I was dirty, and that I was a bit scratched up, but they couldn't find anything else much wrong with me other than that I was unconscious and woke up with no memories."

"That means we've got someplace to start, at least." Her face brightened, which eased a tension in his chest. "We need to get more details from the hospital, and I've got a connection I can use while you're on your shift."

"Your aunt, right?" He hesitated, then reached for the syrup again and drizzled some on his eggs. "She's done some demonstrations of new emergency medical protocols for us at the fire station."

"Yep. So it's not going to be very ethical, maybe even illegal, but the family knows you, kind of. There's a chance I can get that info. Or we just go to the hospital when you get off your shift." She sighed and sipped her coffee. "I think I should also look into, I dunno, occult shit?"

"As in, magic? I thought there wasn't any here..."

"There isn't, but there also aren't..." She waved a hand, searching for the words. "Cross-dimensional portals that transport story characters into this world."

"Shouldn't we look into how _you_ got into Thedas, then?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. All I remember from that is that I fell asleep on the couch, but it's definitely worth looking into." She sighed. "Where do I find information on occult shit?"

He reached over for a piece of bacon on her plate, which she slid towards him. "Well, if we were at Skyhold or Weisshaupt, I'd say the library. But we also have scholars who specialize in magic and lore and etcetera."

"You know, a library's not a bad idea. Not sure how much info the public library'll have but it's a start." She pulled out her phone. He felt his pocket for his own phone, shocked again at how different things were here now that he _knew_ things were different. "Let me see if I can get an idea of what branch has what."

He finished the rest of his breakfast and the last of his coffee and looked at the large chrome clock on the wall above the dining counter. "I've got to get to my shift."

They looked at each other and simultaneously asked, "Are you going to be okay?"

She blinked at him. "What? Yes? I'll just be staring up at ceilings every once in a while like a weirdo, but I can handle that. What about _you_?"

He nodded. "Maybe we'll be busy for my shift and I won't have too much time to think about it. You work tomorrow, too, so whatever you find today I can look into tomorrow."

"This doesn't feel like much of a plan..." She looked worried. "And, um..."

He waited for her to finish her sentence, but she nervously sipped her coffee and avoided his eyes for so long that he reached out and placed his hand on hers. "Salome, what is it?"

"Do you... _want_ to go back? To Thedas?"

He paused, sitting back, hand siding off of hers, a little stunned. "I...honestly haven't gotten that far..." _Did_ he want to return to Thedas, if he could? "I think...we should find out how I got sent here, and...I guess I'll see?"

Her shoulders slumped, and he felt guilty. He hadn't meant to disappoint her, but he felt an obligation to Thedas, to the Grey Wardens, and he didn't want to just _ignore_ his duties. His world may have been fictional here, but it was very real to him. If he was _needed_ there and _chose_ to stay here...he didn't know that he could live with himself without at least knowing if he was _needed_.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "Okay. So I'll look into your hospital records, and some occult shit if I can find it, and you'll look into whatever I find tomorrow. I'll take notes and send them to you. And we'll figure out how cross-dimensional portals work and if that bastard has anything to do with them."

She gave him a smile that to anyone else would have looked confident. He could see the unsteadiness underneath it. He reached for her hand again, taking it in his. "We'll work this all out. I know we will."

Her smile steadied, then she scrunched her face and groaned. " _Shit_ , shit, damn, I forgot...I might have told Rel that I was going to see if you wanted to be my boyfriend. Like a fucking teenager."

He smirked and looked down at their hands and back up to her. "I think it's pretty obvious what the answer is."

"There's more important shit to focus on." A smile still tugged at the corners of her mouth and a slight blush crossed her cheeks and nose.

"Hmm, perhaps, but does that mean this doesn't matter to you?" He released her hand and sat back, his arms crossed and his smirk turning to a grin. "There've been a few women who've been interested in my attention, you know."

"You mean _the bingo ladies_ from the _senior citizen center_ next to the fire station?" She laughed, exactly as he hoped she would.

"I've been telling them I'm taken, but they're so _persistent_ , those women! I'll be happy to be able to tell them for _certain_ that I'm unavailable, even by this world's standards."

"Sure you're not worried Rel would push you down the chute if he knew you'd rejected me?" She smirked at him and it was his turn to laugh.

"There's also that. I never figured him for a vindictive type, but you'd know better than I." He stood and offered his hand, helping her out of the diner booth they were sitting at. She left a few bills on the table while he went to the register.

He shook his head slightly when he took out his wallet and removed the plastic card that was substituted for money in this world, instead of reaching for a money pouch with coins of various metals clinking together. "It amazes me that I'm used to this," he said in a low voice to Salome once she joined him.

"Probably helps that you didn't have your memories until _after_ you were here for a year," she said with a sad smile.

He kissed her temple, turning her smile from sad to pleased. "Walk with me to the fire station?"

She nodded and laced her hand with his.

He wondered if it wouldn't have been better for him to remain ignorant. Being here with her, not having to worry about Darkspawn, the easy conveniences this world had come up with, they were all tempting to embrace. But he knew, now that he _knew_ , he couldn't keep living with his awakened memories without at least trying to understand how he had ended up here.

If he was going to stay, he needed to be able to make the _choice_ to stay. And to make the choice, he needed the option. He needed the answer to the question of how he got here in the first place.

He didn't know if he was looking forward to finding out the answer, or dreading it.


	3. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One place is as good as any to start, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

She’d slowly and reluctantly let go of his hand outside of the fire station, fingertips leaving last as he walked towards the station’s door.

She heard Rel and a few of the others whoop and whistle from an upper window. Of _course_ Rel would have told the entire crew. She flashed a fake sneer and the middle finger, earning a round of loving jeers as she left. She was secretly a little glad that Alistair would have to endure the teasing for his 24-hour shift. It was a safer distraction for him than a fire or other emergency.

Salome made her way back to her car and plugged in the address for the library branch she’d decided to try first. She’d made the wild guess that the branch that advertised the most Halloween events would be the best place for her to start. It also, weirdly enough, had the spookiest name of all the other branches. Hopefully whichever librarian was in charge of creating the events was also into occult shit, or knew how to find people who were. It was kind of an unfair assumption - you didn’t have to be into the occult to like Halloween - but she had to start _somewhere_.

She called her aunt on the way to the branch. Her aunt was in the middle of her own 3-day shift, so Salome was banking on her checking the voicemail she left: _Hey Aunt Ruthie, it’s Salome. Your favorite niece, who you love very, very, much and needs to ask you a huge favor. Um, you’ve probably heard Rel talk about one of the guys at the station with him, Alistair? He’s not great at subtle hints at family dinners, and he and I are kind of dating officially I guess. I’m rambling, sorry, uh, so the favor that your favorite niece is asking you to do is to, um, look into Alistair’s file at the hospital? He said he woke up with amnesia a year ago and doesn’t remember a lot, I have his permission, I promise, he’s just curious but he started a shift this morning. Anyway. I know it’s not necessarily an Aunt Ruthie-Approved favor but I’m really,_ really _hoping you’ll help me out. Love you!_

A text dinged on Salome’s phone after she hung up, sure it was Aunt Ruthie. She waited until she got to the library branch’s parking lot to read it.

[ _Everything good?_ ]

Aunt Ruthie 

[ _Yeah, just asking a favor_ ]

Salome

[ _Text me the summary?_ ]

Aunt Ruthie

[ _A records-related favor_ ]

Salome

[😡]

Aunt Ruthie

[ _I know!!! Just listen to the voicemail, and if you can’t do it that’s totally fine!_ ]

Salome

[ _Okay 😤_ ]

Aunt Ruthie

Salome took a second to look at the string of gifs Rel had sent her, most of them containing an obnoxious amount of hearts and sparkles. She sent an eyeroll gif back and got out of the car.

The Dismal Swamp Branch of the public library looked nice, despite its name. There wasn’t a swamp in sight, just a green public park next to a nondescript tan building with large windows and a sign that told Salome she was in the right place.

She walked into the cool air conditioning, squinting to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the dim light the film on the windows let in. Bookshelves, computer banks, tables and chairs, a few coffee-shop-esque clusters of armchairs, and in the middle of it all, a circular desk with two librarians typing at computers behind it.

They stopped and watched as she approached the desk, both turning to face her with intense focus. She didn’t know which one to talk to first, so she talked to both of them.

“Hey, I’m Salome, I’m looking for info on, uh, occult, stuff?”

One of the librarians smiled and waved their hand at the other one. “Then Min’s who you want to talk with!” They turned back to their computer, resuming their furious typing. Salome could make out the outlines of several chat and web browser windows open.

Salome turned to Min, a chubby woman about her own age with monolid eyelids, black hair in a ponytail, and tattoos over every visible inch of skin below her neck. Her smile was bright and sweet. “Yep! What kind of occult stuff are you looking for? Witchy fiction? Pagan histories? Cult tell-alls? Magic Manuals?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that…”

Min leaned forward, her eyes getting sparkly, and the other librarian paused their furious typing to grin at Salome. “You don’t know how happy you just made her!”

Min clasped her hands together, her smile growing even brighter. “ _Seriously_ , I can’t wait! Let’s sit down and you can tell me what you’re looking for!”

She came out from behind the desk and led Salome to one of the Starbucksian clusters of armchairs, a notebook and pen firmly clasped in her hand. Salome noted that the vintage-cut dress Min wore looked like the same blue line drawings she’d seen on fine chinaware, but on closer inspection they were scenes of skeletons frolicking among Victorian gardens. Min’s notebook had a similar style, skulls hiding in delicate swirls all over the cover. Her tattoos were all cute-creepy, from what Salome could see.

“Alright, so, you want occult stuff but it’s more complicated than that? Tell me _everything_.” She plopped into an armchair and opened her notebook, pen ready to start jotting down notes.

Salome suddenly wasn’t so sure that Min _could_ help her. Creepy-cute style and books on cults and pagan practices might not be the same as cross-dimensional portals between reality and fiction. Maybe that was more Sci-Fi than Paranormal/Supernatural. But she had to start somewhere.

“Min, I’m going to sound like I’ve lost my mind.” Min frowned. “I’m not exaggerating. You’re going to think I have a serious mental issue, but I hope you’ll trust me when I tell you I’m being serious.”

Min nodded her head, solemnly closing her notebook and resting her plump hands on it. “I always try to give my patrons the benefit of the doubt. Part of the whole librarian gig. But if you’re a danger to yourself or others, I’ll have to call someone, deal?”

“Yeah, sure. And you can take notes, I’m fine with that. You might need to, actually.”

Min slowly opened her notebook again and raised her pen. “Ready when you are.”

“It’s going to sound like the plot of a Hallmark movie, just to warn you.” Salome told Min the basics of her dream a year ago, Alistair popping up out of the blue, and his memories unlocking. She left out everything about The Author, saving the fucking bastard for later, _if_ Min believed her. “So, our first instinct was to look into ‘magic,’ since it could have been ‘magic’ that got me there and him here, and the only stuff I know about magic that _isn’t_ Siegfried and Roy is the bare minimum about occult shit. Stuff, sorry.”

Min had been taking notes the entire time without interrupting Salome, her pen flying across the pages. She stopped and looked at them, flipping back between them and tapping different words with her pen. Salome shifted uncomfortably in her armchair.

She jumped when Min snapped her notebook shut. It wasn’t a loud sound, but during work hours on a weekday the library was almost dead silent, magnifying the sound.

“Okay.” She stood up and walked quickly towards the desk, stopping and turning around when she realized Salome wasn’t behind her. “Come on! We’ve got some books to find!”

Salome pushed out of the chair and ran after her.

An hour later, they’d claimed one of the huge study tables and gathered piles of books from the religion, sociology/anthropology, and history sections. They even stopped in the science sections, pulling anything that might have to do with theories on dimensions, wormholes, and other complicated stuff that made Salome’s head hurt. She asked Min about using the Internet, but the librarian shook her head. “We should start with a solidly published base, first, then move on to web sources. There are so many blogs out there that look like legitimate informational websites that unless you know what you’re looking to _avoid_ , you could get yourself really tangled in a bunch of bullshit.”

Min shoved half the pile towards Salome and sat down at the table, flipping through the first book she grabbed. “Look for keywords, like dimensions, portals, between worlds, all of that.”

By the end, they’d gotten it down to three books: one on theoretical physics with a focus on dimensions, one on a book of rituals from an obscure long-dead religion that someone discovered in the 60’s, and the last one on modern summoning rituals from a sociologist’s field notes.

Min smiled proudly. “We went from 43 books to 3! Not bad for a day’s work. Think these will have what you’re looking for?” She tapped the stack of books.

Salome sighed. “Maybe. I hope so.” She checked the three books out and waved to Min. Salome was touched that the librarian had helped her as best as she could, even trying to pretend like her situation made sense, but she had a sinking feeling in her gut. 

It couldn’t be as easy as picking up some _library books_ , could it?

She glanced at her phone and saw texts from Rel, Aunt Ruthie, and Alistair, which she quickly opened up and read.

[ _I wanted a distraction, not to be tortured by the others!_ ]

Alistair

It was completely bizarre to see a text from him now that his memories were unlocked. She was sure it was bizarre for him to write it.

Rel’s texts were just more annoying heart-and-sparkle gifs.

Aunt Ruthie’s text gave Salome a queasy feeling.

[ _Got the file, call me when you can. And you owe me!!! I’ll have the usual 🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁_ ]

Aunt Ruthie

Cupcakes, Salome could do. Phone calls about hospital files on her amnesiatic real-fictional boyfriend, not so much. She called her aunt as she drove towards home.

“Well it’s about time, my favorite niece,” her aunt said after picking up on the first ring.

“Hi, my totally-badass aunt,” she started. Aunt Ruthie cut her off.

“First, the terms of my payment: Hummingbird cake base with pecans, that frosting that goes on German’s chocolate cake, candied pecans on top.”

“Done, Aunt Ruthie.” Her aunt always wanted some kind of cupcake for the favors she did for Salome, but she always asked for something different as far as the actual flavors went. “Text me that when we’re done. So you got his file?”

She heard her aunt huff. “Yeah, I got it. Not a lot in it, though.”

Salome’s gut sunk even lower. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I snapped some scans, I’ll send them to you along with my demands.”

“Great. I’ll bring the cupcakes to dinner Friday?”

“You better! And remember to make enough!”

Salome smiled a little. Her family devoured sweets like Paprika devoured his bowl of kibble: so fast you almost missed it. Which meant that Salome always had to bring ‘extra.’ “Twenty four cupcakes it is.”

They said short goodbyes and hung up, Salome’s phone dinging with two texts immediately after.

She wanted to go through the file.

She wanted to go through the books.

She wanted the answers to be in them.

Her hands gripped her steering wheel so tight her knuckles went pink. She had a start on at least _trying_ to figure out what had happened to both her and Alistair. So why did she feel more and more hopeless?

It felt hopeless because it didn’t feel like the right direction, she realized. But she had to start _somewhere_. Right?

Because they both wanted to know how they’d been transported to each other’s world.

But he wasn’t sure if he wanted to stay.

It had taken her until she was in the Fade to figure out that she never had the option to stay in Thedas.

What if Alistair wasn’t meant to stay here?

What if he chose _not_ to stay here?

“Fuck... _fuck_!” Hot tears started stinging at her eyes, and she slammed a hand on her steering wheel.

She needed a rage drive.

She put all of her windows down and switched to a playlist of rage music, turning the volume up as high as she could stand it, and made her way to the highway. She had a loop of highway, well known to her but sparingly used by other drivers, that she had driven many, many times on her other rage drives. When she’d first started going for rage drives, it was because she had teenage angst and a brand new driver’s license. Then it was because she had a dead mom and unrelenting, crushing guilt. Things were easier now, both angst- and guilt-wise, but every once in a while she still needed to rage drive.

It was different to rage drive in the middle of the day than it was at midnight. At midnight, there were less people who might watch you get off and on at the same exits over and over again. Fewer people to be worried about crashing into. A smaller audience for her hoarse lyrics and burning tears.

She drove the first half of the loop. She kept at the speed limit, setting cruise control and letting herself cry and scream to the lyrics blasting through her stereo. The wind whipped her hair and her voice and her tears around like a tornado. She hit her hand on the steering wheel over and over again, palm stinging with each hit.

She easily exited the highway, then turned around and got on the exit opposite the one she had just used to start the second half of the loop. She used the exits to breathe and change songs if necessary.

Finally, a song that resonated with her rage came on, one that made her ribcage vibrate with energy that needed to be let out.

_I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rind, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside-_

The lead’s voice was just low enough to force her to sing while still feeling like she was yelling, making her throat hoarse and sore and raw.

_Wanna put my tender, heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion-_

The lyrics were just the right combination of absolute bullshit and weirdly real that it gave voice to her rage without making her feel stupid and childish.

_I burn, burn like a wicker cabinet, chalk white and oh-so-frail-_

She put the song on repeat and sang and drove and screamed and cried until she had done the loop four times.

Her fifth time starting down the loop, she put her windows halfway up, downgrading the tornado to a gusty day. At the first exit she switched the music off and started the second half of the loop with just the sound of the wind and the highway around her.

She slowly pulled off the highway, parking her car halfway off the asphalt, halfway on the scrubby grass of the shoulder.

She’d realized why she was so angry.

This plan was bullshit. 

They weren’t going to figure anything out this way, because even if they found some theory on cross-dimensional travel or the perfect eldritch summoning ceremony, they wouldn’t even know what to do with it. Magic didn’t exist here, and if the scientific theories were even _possible_ to test out, they’d probably need top-secret machines or some other shit to get it to work.

This didn’t feel right.

But there wasn’t anything else she could think of to do.

Salome leaned her head back on the headrest of her car, starting to sweat from the heat rolling off the asphalt of the highway and the sun beating down on the car.

She stared at the fabric-covered roof of her car, and tried the last thing she’d ever thought she’d do.

“Alright, you fucking asshole. I gave you the ending you wanted. The least you could do is monologue whatever _this_ plan is to me. Give me hints or clues about how he got here and if he should go back.”

Her ceiling remained blank.

She switched on her car and pulled back onto the highway with the wind in her ears and her mind full of worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Inside Out" by Eve 6 https://youtu.be/T8Xb_7YDroQ


	4. Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello, world.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: blood and other body-related creepiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Alistair~

Their teasing had been well-intentioned, merciless, and an effective distraction. As he had done his daily procedures for starting his shift, several crew members rotated through, some using innuendo and elbow-nudging, others going between congratulations and almost-joking warnings about breaking hearts. He’d blushed and blustered and scoffed and laughed, and been immensely thankful that he hadn’t had any time to himself. If he found himself alone with his thoughts, he began thinking about Thedas, and immediately went to find something else to keep him occupied.

“Wow, never seen the chrome on the truck so _shiny_ ,” Rel teased at one point. “A little frustration, there? Impatience?” He winked, the innuendo making Alistair laugh instead of blush.

“Bored with this shift, truth be told. Not that I’m wishing any emergencies on anyone, but it’d be nice to get a call about a cat stuck in a tree.” Why was that the example scenario used for firefighters? He’d never thought about it before his memories unlocked, it was just assumed that it made sense. Cats never got stuck in trees in Thedas.

“Want to get back to Salome, huh?” Rel said, clapping him on the shoulder. He’d nodded, since it was true on several levels. Of course he wanted to get back to the woman he’d come to care for before his memories returned. He wanted to be near her even more after he remembered that he had lost her so violently, and now miraculously had her back. He also badly wanted to know what she found out about his time in the hospital and their ‘cross-dimensional travel,’ as she had called it.

By that evening he had completed almost every chore around the station that he could think of, and the crew had finished teasing him after running out of material, leaving him with nothing left to distract him.

The crew sat down to the dinner he’d cooked (another chore that they were happy to let him do) and ate, joking and laughing and discussing past fires and current issues in their community and this world. He was reminded of eating with the Grey Wardens in Weisshaupt, or in taverns, or around campfires. The camaraderie was familiar, even though it wasn’t fellow Wardens he was sitting with. He felt of two worlds, and now, sitting at this table and eating this meal with the rest of the firefighters, he felt half at-home and half homesick.

The dinner conversation, and his thoughts, were interrupted by the blaring alarm signaling that they were needed. They left their plates and bits of food that would go cold on the table, and ran to get equipped. The lead for this response team got the information from dispatch on where they were going and what the emergency was.

“Bad news, it’s an apartment fire,” the lead, Sam, told them, speaking through a headset as she sat in the passenger seat of the massive fire truck. Any fire was bad, but fires in large buildings where a lot of people lived were the worst. The risk of missing someone who needed rescue was much greater, as was the danger of being in a room when it collapsed and getting trapped. The team tensed with energy, listening to the details Sam was able to provide as she got them.

By the time they arrived at the scene, they’d learned that the building in the apartment complex was only three stories and most of the residents in those units were accounted for, both small miracles that made them breathe easier.

Sam divided up responsibilities as they pulled up to the building, setting three to hoses and containment, two to administering first aid, and two - Alistair and Rel - to sweeping the building.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she warned, handing them each a sledgehammer in case they needed to break down any obstacles. It was her standard warning whenever she was lead on a call. She had sat Alistair down when he first got to the station on a night that she was lead and explained what she expected of whoever was on her crew. ‘Don’t do anything stupid’ meant ‘don’t get trapped,’ ‘don’t stray too far from each other,’ and ‘don’t be a hero unless you know you can get out.’

Alistair and Rel nodded and started up the open-air stairwell in the center of the building. They needed to see how far up they could make it up before they started sweeping. The concrete slabs that made the floors were holding, but the old wooden siding of the building had caught like kindling, and there was no guarantee that the internal structures hadn’t already lit up as well.

They made it to the top floor without obstacles or unstable structures deterring them, picked an apartment opposite from each other, and began sweeping. They were connected by radio headsets inside of their full-face masks, and they would wait until they had both emerged from their respective apartments before moving onto the next. If one didn’t emerge, the other went after them, a system that had saved both of them from a few close calls.

All but one of the top floor apartments were clear. In the last apartment Rel swept, he found a man unconscious near the apartment door, and Alistair helped heave him over Rel’s shoulder. The man was relatively light, so Rel waved off Alistair’s offer of help.

“I’ll take him down, you start on the next floor, right side from the front.” A break in their personal protocol, but a calculated risk based on how fast the fire was spreading, how soon the others could put it out, and how quickly Rel could get the man to first aid and then come back.

Alistair nodded and they descended to the second floor together, peeling off as Rel continued down the stairs and Alistair chose the first apartment. He could hear Rel telling Sam and the first aid team about the man they found.

As soon as Alistair went through the apartment door, the radio cut out. He tapped the sides of his mask like he could hit the radio back into working condition. He didn’t hear any static that indicated a drop in signal, but he didn’t hear Rel and the team, either.

“Hello? Hello?”

No response.

Rel would be back in a minute or two, though, and this floor had seemed stable when they’d come down, so Alistair continued into the apartment to sweep, starting with the rooms farthest away. Most of the rooms in all of the apartments on the third floor were filled with smoke, and only a few of the outermost ones had caught fire. The same seemed to be true for this first apartment as well, mostly smoke, a few flames in the rooms furthest back, closest to the old wooden siding on the outside of the building.

The first two rooms he checked seemed to be children’s rooms, seeing mostly smoke but some flames on the furniture. Sad as it was to see the colorful toys and beds alight, he was glad there weren’t any children to be found in them. The next room, an office, was also smokey but otherwise untouched.

He got to the fourth room and saw plumes of dark smoke spewing from the edges of the door. Odd, given how far back it was from the outside of the building and that the office between it and the children’s rooms hadn’t caught fire yet. 

He held his sledgehammer with both hands, raising it to strike down at the red-hot doorknob, when the door swung open on its own.

Inside the room, fire covered every surface possible, powerful and relentless, and black smoke poured from between the flames. It was almost as if the room was _made_ of fire. Alistair tried to peer in, having to squint his eyes against the brightness and to try to see around the thick smoke. He saw an outline that looked like a person in a chair in the center of the room. He swore and tapped his helmet. The radio was still silent.

He was about to be very stupid. He knew he shouldn’t, but the room wasn’t very large, and he was sure he could go in and grab the person. 

He’d be quick and careful. 

He didn’t see how the person could be alive, but he had to try.

He rushed through the doorway.

He didn’t feel the intense heat he expected from such a strong blaze. In fact, it was almost as if he had stepped into someplace _cooler_ than the hallway he came from.

He stumbled forward, the change in temperature confusing him.

He should have been blinded by bright flame and dark smoke, but the air was clear and the light was no brighter than an overcast day.

He looked to the fire covering the walls and ceiling. It had frozen mid-roil, shimmering with heat that looked trapped behind glass yet not melting it.

He finally looked to the person sitting in the center of the room.

At first he thought it was a corpse, then a mannequin. It was human-shaped, posture stiff and angular in a simple wooden chair that should have been ashes by now. Its skin was white and waxy, and while it wore no clothes, its body was smooth, without feature. It had no hair, but otherwise had a too-realistic head. The eyes were open and had deep black irises painted on them.

The mannequin blinked.

And slightly turned its head to look at him.

Its lips, which had been solid and closed, split apart and stretched.

It smiled, its teeth impossibly perfect.

“Hello, Alistair.”

He could hear the creature through his helmet, its voice clearer than if it was speaking through the radio. It was almost as if it spoke directly into his ear.

“What is this? Who are you?” He stayed on his guard, keeping his distance from the strange figure.

It laughed in response, its jaw moving so its teeth snapped together, its expression unchanged.

“Are you the Author? You...look different.”

The figure lifted its hand, turning its head mechanically to look at it. It curled each finger, one-by-one, into a fist. “Different. Yes. Author...No. Made?” Its head snapped back to Alistair, so fast its face blurred in his vision for a moment. “ _Made_.”

“It’s made us a _new_ monster to fight, then?” He took a step back with a nervous laugh, not hiding his instinct to retreat, sledgehammer ready to swing. “And here I am without a sword, damn. Do you think a sledgehammer will do, or shall I go find a blade?”

“Monster…” It swirled the world around in their mouth, tongue moving oddly behind its ghoulish smile. “I suppose there must be one. Me?” It tilted its head slightly at him. “ _Me_.”

Alistair stepped back again. He wished he had stumbled on an undead armored ogre rather than whatever this creature was.

It lifted its hand again, gazing at it for a second before bringing it to its face.

It placed its hand over its eye, its fingers curled into the depression of its eyesocket, and slowly pressed.

Its skin gave way. 

Then its eye.

Its cheek.

Its ear.

Its bone.

Its muscle.

Its skull.

All of it swept away and scooped up, leaving drag marks and empty space behind. It reminded Alistair of a child dragging their hand through a cake, the creature playing both roles.

It looked at the scoop of gore in its hand, eyeball staring at eyeball, and tilted what was left of its head. The space it had exposed oozed slowly, deep black liquid beginning to make its way down the part of its jaw that remained.

Bile and dread competed for a spot in Alistair's throat. “ _What are you?!_ ”

Both of the creature’s eyes looked at him. “Incomplete.”

Alistair could see the piece of bone move as it spoke, the muscle of its tongue exposed through the opening it had created.

It lifted the pile of skin and bone and muscle back up to its face and pressed it into the emptiness. It patted it back into roughly the same shape it had been, going so far as to use its fingers to place the eye roughly where it had originally sat. What it left behind when it lowered its hand was a marbled patch of varying colors and textures, the nerves that dangled from the eyeball swaying when it moved.

It turned its head, half-perfect, half-mangled, towards its shoulder and raised its hand, watching as it drove a single finger down into its body, through the skin and flesh. Its finger sunk down to the knuckle through what should have been the joint of its shoulder.

Alistair had taken another step towards the door when he heard it slam shut behind him. The force of it sent a vibration through the air. 

The creature rose from its seat and moved towards him, its progress as slow and relentless as lava.

Alistair risked looking away to aim the sledgehammer at the door, swinging it into the flimsy, hollow wood he knew it was made out of.

The sledgehammer bounced off of it, not even leaving a mark.

He tried again, to the same effect.

The creature came into his view slowly, its face like a waning moon drifting into the sky of his vision.

He raised the sledgehammer as if to strike the door again, then twisted his body and aimed it at the creature’s torso. He felt the sledgehammer make contact, not as if he were hitting a wall, but as if he was suddenly swinging it underwater.

The sledgehammer passed through it like its hand had, splashing the frozen fire with flesh and blood and bone.

The creature didn’t even flinch. It continued to push towards him as if nothing had happened, hands absently touching the newly exposed carnage. Alistair saw ribs and spine and lungs and liver, having sent its muscle, skin, and stomach across the room. He retreated his last step, the oxygen tank on his back smacking into the unmoving door.

“I am happy I met you, Alistair.” It gently lifted its hands to the corners of its smile, and pulled, the skin splitting to reveal more teeth so its smile wrapped around its face. “Are you happy you met me?” 

It reached forward, hands stained with its own thick blood and bits of viscera.

It tenderly traced the outline of his mask.

Alistair’s hand scrambled for the doorknob, found it, turned it.

Locked.

It stared into his eyes as it pressed its fingers inward.

Turned it.

Locked.

His mask began to bend and warp under its touch.

Turned it.

The door swung open and he stumbled backwards through the doorway, the heat and smoke and movement rushing him all at once. He glanced behind him for a second, then turned back to the doorway.

The room in front of him was completely empty.

There wasn’t even a wisp of smoke.

He ran out of the apartment, his radio coming back on and the frantic calls of his crew ringing in his ears as he lifted his mask in time to retch onto the concrete floor of the stairwell. He saw the blurry outline of boots moving towards him before his vision went dark.


	5. Retrieval

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regroup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

Salome slammed the heavy book on theoretical physics shut and shoved another Jammy Dodger in her mouth. Paprika snuffled by her feet, licking up the crumbs that fell from her fingers as she brushed them off.

She hadn't understood _basic_ physics when she was in school, why the fuck did she think she could understand the _complicated_ version?!

She rubbed at the side of her face, concentrating on pre-acne spots and wishing she had the smooth skin she'd eventually ended up with in Thedas, thanks to either a medieval-style diet and low pollution, or video game visuals that didn’t _allow_ characters to have acne. She opened up Alistair's file on her computer again, surprisingly clear and easy to read despite the fact that it was texted to her from a scanner app.

Alistair had been found unconscious in the decaying gym of a public school that had burned down in the 80's and never quite got around to being rebuilt. The ruins of P.S. 408 hosted anyone from vagrants to junkies to horny teens that wanted to party. One of the ruin's residents had anonymously called an ambulance and it picked him up.

Bloodwork and other bodily fluid tests showed no drugs or other substances. Nothing was broken, no major wounds, no track marks, only minor bruises and scratches. Nothing stood out about his clothing, just that they were covered in dirt and grass. He woke a few hours after arriving at the hospital. Staff determined that he had no identifying memories other than his first and last name, but his basic knowledge ('fire is hot' kind of shit) was fine. Salome rubbed at her face and wished she had been there during those tests, to tell whether or not he'd woken up with the basic knowledge about this world or if it had somehow 'downloaded' as he was being tested.

The final bit was the information from the social worker that had evaluated Alistair. The social worker had done several interviews and evaluations with him and settled on a theory that Alistair was a military veteran who had a mental block on his identifying memories. Salome was impressed with the social worker's insight, given the fact that he was evaluating a fictional character from a video game. He’d gotten Alistair settled into a transitional housing center after being cleared by the hospital, and recommended Alistair try for first-responder jobs.

She knew the rest of his story from Rel and Alistair. Alistair's social worker had a connection at the fire station and brought him in for an informal tryout at one of the training grounds. He’d impressed them, especially given his ‘amnesia.’ They put him through training and coached him through the testing, adjusting the requirements to fit his 'special circumstances.' They practically forced him to move out of the transitional housing center and into the fire station while he earned enough to get a small apartment of his own.

Salome flopped over onto the couch, fully stretching out. It was an inspirational, Hallmark-worthy tale, especially given his quick rise from mysterious amnesiac to sanctioned and salaried firefighter. It was one of the things that had made her unsure about whether Alistair was from this world, or transported here. Inspirational things happened occasionally in this world, but it also made sense to accelerate the timeline for a fictional character.

At least she knew which one it was, now.

Paprika made his way up the cushioned steps and settled into the dip between her stomach and the back of the couch, closing his eyes and snorting. She gave him a few pats and reached for her copy of _The World of Thedas: Volume I_ . In addition to the ones from the library, she'd dragged all of her _Dragon Age_ books (published books, art books, and comics - you never knew what was going to help, after all) and piled them on her coffee table as well. She flipped through it, looking for keywords like Min had shown her. She was exhausted, pushing five straight hours of research with the assistance of Jammy Dodgers, coffee, and Paprika's emotional support.

_I'M SICK OF THESE PILLS THAT MAKE ME SIT STILL! ARE YOU FEELING FINE? YES I FEEL JUST FINE! TELL ME THAT YOU'RE ALRI-_

Rel was calling. He hated that she still used their dorky back-and-forth 'emo phase' song as his ringtone on her phone, which made her more determined to keep it forever.

He was calling mid-shift.

It was late.

He usually texted first.

She hadn’t missed any texts from him.

He was calling instead of texting, in the middle of his shift, late at night.

Prickles ran along her arms and neck.

Salome picked up. "Rel?"

"Salome?”

He sounded strained.

Tired.

Worried.

Nervous.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

It was the way he sounded when something was wrong.

"Are you okay?! Are you- Is he-" 

"He's fine, _everyone's fine_! Kind of...”

" _Jesus_ , Rel, what the fuck?!" Her breath shuddered and her eyes watered, his words temporarily pausing her panic.

"Sorry." He took a deep breath. "Fine might not be the right word. Physically fine? You need to come down to the hospital ASAP."

She immediately got up, dismissing Paprika's upset grunts by tossing some bits of kibble to him from a ‘treat’ jar on the coffee table as she went for her purse. "Alive?"

"Definitely."

"Awake?” She slung her purse over her shoulder and pulled out her keys.

"Sedated."

"Shit.” She locked the door, gripping her bundle of keys too tightly. “What the fuck happened?!"

"I... where do I even begin...Salome...he...we found... _fuck_ , just get down here. Aunt Ruthie's still on duty so she's looking after him, but he's been asking for you when he wasn’t out of it from the drugs. Can you get here? Need a ride?"

Her fingers found a deep pre-acne spot and she pinched at it, nails digging into her skin. "Already in the car. Be there soon."

* * *

Rel met her in the ER waiting room, worrying at the skin around his nails with his teeth. He looked the tiniest bit relieved when he spotted her, but not by much. At least it wasn’t the same look he had on his face when they’d found out about their mom.

“Finally!” He turned and walked through a pair of doors leading into the main building of the hospital, making Salome jog to catch up. “That felt like forever.” Salome realized Rel was worried and _scared_.

It took a lot to scare Rel.

_A lot_.

“What _happened_?”

“Apartment fire. Alistair and I were sweeping, I found someone and took him to first aid while Alistair kept going, but then we couldn’t get a response from him over the headset…”

They walked down a hallway and waited for an elevator. Rel punched the button for the second floor, where Aunt Ruthie worked in general admittance.

“Did he pass out?”

Rel started biting at his nails again. “We didn’t notice he wasn’t responding until I asked if he was still in the first apartment. No one could get a verbal response. I checked through the apartment he was supposed to be in, but it was empty.”

They got off the elevator and walked quickly towards Aunt Ruthie’s wing.

“Where _was_ he?”

Rel stopped and looked around, spotting a small nook to the side where they stored the metal carts for food trays when they weren’t being used. He pulled Salome into the cart nook and talked in a whisper.

“Sam came up and we checked all the apartments, Salome. _All_ of them. He wasn’t in any of them. We didn’t find him until we finished searching the last set of apartments on the floor.” He shook his head and sucked at his teeth, running a hand over his hair, nerves and fear preventing him from standing still. “We got out of the apartments and saw him run out of the first apartment I’d checked. He barfed and full-on passed out.”

“Shit!”

“There was something wrong with his mask when we found him, too. It was...melted, or something. Warped. It looked...shit, it looked like some playdough that someone had stuck their fingers in.”

“That’s fucking _weird_ …”

“Yeah, no _shit_! There’s no fucking way that Alistair was pulling some kind of Scooby-Doo ‘multiple doors in one hallway’ hide-and-seek bullshit. And I’m not even _done_! We got him on a gurney and gave him oxygen, got him awake, and he started trying to get the O2 mask off his face, then he _freaked_ whenever someone tried to touch him. Good thing we'd already strapped him in so he couldn’t bolt. We had to just stick the gurney into the ambulance. I rode with him, tried to talk to him, but he was saying crazy shit about monsters and scooping out eyeballs and ‘don’t let it touch you?!’" He leaned in closer to her. _"Fuck_ , Salome, I think he had some kind of episode or something. Maybe it’s related to his amnesia?”

“Maybe,” she said. _Or the fact that he’s not from here,_ she thought.

And maybe he wasn’t alone.

It was possible, she thought, that there could be more than one fictional being here in the real world. He’d seen the Author, maybe _it_ counted as another being. If there was a third being…

Rel shook his head and took a breath. “You ready?”

She nodded, and they left the cart nook and headed for a room at the end of the hallway.

* * *

Alistair's head lolled towards the door when they walked in, his eyes half-closed and his mouth slightly open. He shifted groggily in the bed, trying to push himself up, but his arms looked like they were locked in place.

Because they _were_.

They’d put him in hospital restraints, the kind that were cushioned with foam and cinched with a metal clasp so the patient couldn’t undo them.

Salome rushed past Rel to storm into the room. “Oh _fuck_ no, these come off right the _fuck_ now!” 

She grabbed at the nylon strap of the restraint closest to her, looking at the metal clasp and trying to see how to get it off. 

Rel hovered in the doorway. “You sure that’s a good idea? I told you he was freaking out whenever someone tried to touch him.”

“Look at him, Rel! How could he possibly hurt anyone when he’s…” Her face flushed in anger and turned to concentrate on the clasp.

She heard the fabric shift, and looked up to see Alistair swivel his head down so that he could see her.

“Heeeey…” Alistair slurred the word, the corners of his mouth twitching up briefly. His heavy-lidded eyes were pointed in her direction, but he didn’t seem to be able to focus them.

A nurse passing by the room glanced at Rel, then spotted Salome crouching near the restraints. “What are you doing? Dr. Summers said-”

Salome would have snapped at the nurse if Rel hadn’t said interrupted her first. “Only Dr. Summers will be able to get her to stop, miss. Could you track her down for us?”

The nurse shot an irritated look at them, but nodded and left.

She’d found the small catch on the metal clasp and lengthened the tether, but she didn’t know how to get it off completely. She grabbed his free-ish hand and held it in both of hers. Rel tensed when saw her reach for him, but stayed back when he saw that Alistair wasn’t going to start flailing or yelling.

“Hi. Are you alright? What happened?”

“Mmask mmonsster...s'gone...” The thick words and slow pace made it hard for her to understand what he was saying.

She turned when Dr. Summers, known to Salome and Rel as Aunt Ruthie, strode into the room with the annoyed nurse behind her. “Salome, stop trying to remove my patient's restraints!”

“He doesn’t _need_ them, Aunt Ruthie!”

“Like _hell_ he doesn’t.” Aunt Ruthie turned and nodded at the nurse, sending her back to whatever she had been doing before she was sidetracked.

“Look! He’s fine, he’s not _doing_ anything, he's too doped up! He doesn’t need the fucking cuffs!”

“Really? You _that_ confident, huh? Allow me to demonstrate.” Aunt Ruthie huffed and briskly walked to the other side of the bed, turning a blinking and beeping screen towards her to see his heart rate and whatever other information it displayed. Then she turned to Alistair, who tried to roll his head her way. “Mr. Theirin, I’m Dr. Summers, do you remember me?”

His eyebrows shifted a little, showing confusion. “...Yyees?”

“Good enough. ” Aunt Ruthie grabbed the round silver disk of the stethoscope that always hung from her neck, without putting in the earpieces. “I’m going to listen to your heart, Mr.Theirin, alright?”

Her hand moved towards Alistair. 

Shrill beeps and flashing icons on his vitals screen showed his heart rate and blood pressure jumping dangerously high. He started yelling combinations of ‘no’ and panicked shouts, jerking his limbs to try to escape. Salome backed up in surprise. The loose restraint allowed him to clutch at the side of the bed for leverage, but the other restraints wouldn’t budge. His grimace was full of fear and rage, almost inhuman.

Aunt Ruthie drew her hand back, then took a huge step back from him for good measure. She huffed again and shot Salome a look. Clearly, this wasn’t the first time he’d reacted like this.

Slowly, he stopped struggling, and the beeps returned to normal as he relaxed. His somewhat-free arm fell heavily to his side once again, and his face went slack as he tried to catch his breath.

Salome looked from her aunt to Alistair and back. “But...he didn’t do that when _I_ got near him…”

“And imagine my surprise, dear niece! It’s been like this every time since he was brought in. He hasn’t let anyone else touch him, whether they’re from the fire station or one of my nurses.” Aunt Ruthie stepped around the bed, lightly pushed Salome out of the way, and tightened the restraint before Alistair could lift his arm again. “It’d be cruel to let him go through that every single time someone has to come near him, so we’ve got to sedate him. I wouldn't do it if I could avoid it, and I’m already risking my safety and my staff's by administering it in doses instead of a steady drip.”

Alistair groaned weakly, his head lolling, eyes sluggishly looking for her. “Ssalomme…?”

She took a few tiny steps forward, Aunt Ruthie stepping to the side and watching carefully.

“I’m here, Alistair. You’re safe, okay? You’re going to be okay.”

She had no fucking clue if he’d be okay, but they both needed the hope.

His head turned heavily towards her, his eyes nearly closed. A muscle in his arm twitched, and she quickly stepped back, but he didn't move any further. She looked at his hand. It was turned palm up, fingers curling slightly.

A familiar scene from her time in Thedas, this time the roles reversed.

A quiet request for connection. He’d been too shy to take her hand last time.

She brushed her fingertips against his, and his fingers curled around hers in response.

Salome heard her aunt tsk. “If only you’d gone into the family business. I could get _you_ to do his examinations instead of risking my nurses.”

“Aunt Ruthie, I need you to wake him up. Take him off of whatever you’ve got him on. I need to talk to him.”

Rel finally stepped fully into the room. “You _just saw_ him try to cut and run _while_ he was sedated, and you want him _off_ of it?!”

“We’ve got to find out what happened to him, and we can’t get anything out of him if he’s too drugged up to try and give us the truth!”

They both looked to Aunt Ruthie, who pursed her lips, then nodded. “We’ll start weaning him off of it, just enough until he’s some kind of coherent. If he doesn’t prove to be a danger, we can back off on it more. Seem fair?”

Salome nodded, while Rel started biting at his cuticles again. “How long’s it going to take for him to be less... _this_ ,” she asked, gesturing to his groggy face.

Aunt Ruthie shrugged. “Everyone’s different, give it until tomorrow afternoon.” She walked over to the IV stand Alistair was hooked up to and pressed different buttons on the screen that controlled the tubes. “I'll change it to a drip, lower than the single doses he gets, and we’ll lower it gradually. Give him time to come down off of what’s currently in his system.”

Salome could go to work in the morning and make it back to the hospital by the afternoon. “Okay, we'll come back tomorrow. Rel, need a ride to the fire station?”

He shook his head. “Sam already called in some subs for the rest of...our...shift. She told me to get some rest and we'd work out getting rescheduled during my next shift. Can you give me a lift home?”

“Sure.” She looked at Rel carefully, and saw that his cuticles were so torn up that they were bleeding. He was freaking out, and she didn't know if he was going to be able to handle it alone. Her little brother took care of her a lot - it was time for her to repay the favor. “Um, I could really use some company though, I’d rather not be totally alone." Rel paused his picking but looked unsure. "Paprika misses you, too.”

He smiled, looking exhausted. “Aw, I've missed my favorite fat not-chihuahua, too. Just take me by my place so I can grab some clothes. You making frittatas in the morning?”

“ _Fine_ , we’ll go by the store and get stuff for frittatas.”

“And cupcakes, don’t forget,” Aunt Ruthie said. “Two dozen. Now, it’s late. _Go home_. Get some sleep. I’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

They nodded to their aunt. Salome took one last look at Alistair. He'd closed his eyes and was still, breathing evenly.

She hoped he was sleeping.

She hoped he’d be lucid in the afternoon.

And she _really_ hoped that they could handle whatever the fuck he had seen in that fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["Everything is Alright" Motion City Soundtrack](https://youtu.be/0iB8FPrauFw)


	6. Linked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Alistair~

He was in the Fade.

Which meant this was a dream.

When someone _here_ dreamt, the dream was woven from details about the dreamer's history, imagination, desires, and fears. Each and every dream was contained within a vast universe of one's own mind. 

This was the first time he'd dreamt of the Fade since his memories were unlocked. He'd dreamt of the Fade before then, but thought it was just a fanciful, slightly scary place that he had imagined.

He was nervous, at first, his memories warning him to be wary of the Fade while his past year's experience had taught him there was nothing to be scared of.

Dreams can't hurt you in this world.

He scanned the scene, able to observe it more carefully and recognized certain images. The sky was divided into bright golden light and swirling darkness cut with lightning. And there, the giant statue of a woman, her head bowed and arms out in supplication. Small windows, the shape and almost size of keyholes, dotted the glittering stone around him, a softer light shining through them.

He was dreaming of the Fade as it had been when they'd been physically transported into it at Adamant Fortress. He looked around, expecting to see Hawke, the Inquisitor, the other companions he had been with. Salome.

But no one was with him. He hadn't dreamt of company yet.

He wandered the path they had taken, eerily silent, uneasily alone.

There were no sounds here. No sounds of demons screeching or winds howling. Not even the sound of his own footsteps on the rocky terrain. He picked up a rock and threw it into a shallow puddle near him. He saw it land, the water rippling, but didn't hear a splash.

He wandered, aimless, waiting for something to happen. He remembered talking with the others at the fire station about 'lucid dreaming,' where one could actively push and manipulate their dreams to go exactly as they wanted them to. Perhaps...

He held out a hand and imagined a sword in his grasp.

Nothing.

He imagined a dagger. Then a butter knife. Then a pebble.

Nothing appeared in his hand.

Not a lucid dream, then.

There was nothing to do but continue forwards. He stayed alert for any stray demons or spirits out of instinct, and walked towards the Fade Rift that led out into Adamant Fortress.

Without any enemies to fight, the walk was short, and could maybe have even been called pleasant. Minus the statues of twisted, screaming figures, of course.

He walked until he stood in front of a long, shallow pool that spread out underneath an enormous floating boulder.

Salome had disappeared as they had walked through this passageway, the Author having somehow captured her just before they fought Nightmare. He flexed his hand, frustratingly weaponless. He supposed he could turn around, go back the way he came while waiting for the dream to end. But he wanted to see if anyone waited up ahead.

He stepped into the shallow water, waves spreading out across the pool's surface. More waves were sent crashing into each other as he moved forward slowly. He scanned the boulder above him, looking closely at the shadows, noticing that there were more than a few good-sized holes in the rock above. A few of them even had faint rays of light that shone though them.

That was how the Author had taken her, then. It had stolen Salome, plucked her from the water to pull her up one of the stone chutes that they had unwittingly walked under. He stared up at one, the light above him shimmering.

Something passed over the light.

Was it still up there? Could Alistair find a way to the top, speak with the Author, and figure out what was happening?

He sighed. This was a dream _of_ the Fade, not a dream _in_ the Fade. It could only tell him what he already knew, or what he could figure out himself. Whatever was up there wouldn't have the answers that he needed.

He continued forward to Nightmare's Lair. He expected it to be empty, like the rest of the dream.

It was not.

A ghastly creature waited for him. It floated above the dais in the center of the lair, two pairs of skeletal feet peeking out from a skirt of dirty and decaying leather scraps. Its chest was bare, emaciated to the point where he could see the outline of its spine _through_ its stomach. It had what at first appeared to be armor covering its shoulders. The more Alistair stared at it, the more he realized that the covering was more like a beetle's shell than anything made of metal or hide. The same chitinous shell covered the six boney appendages sprouting like wings from its back. Each moved of its own accord, and both the appendages and the creature's fingers were tipped by dark, wicked claws. The lower half of its face almost resembled a skeleton's grin, teeth broken and jagged. The rest of the creature's head was insect-like but sightless. The final bits of its carapace almost created a crown, and heavy, fleshy tentacles hung down past either side of its jaws.

The Aspect of the Nightmare. They had defeated it, stupidly believing it to be the last obstacle to their escape, forgetting Salome's warning that Nightmare itself would return. 

Why would the rest of his dream be unpopulated, except for the Aspect?

The silence was heavy around him. He stopped on the last step into the lair. Despite knowing this was a dream, the Aspect had not been an easy foe, and being cautious was never a bad idea. He wished that he could summon weapons and armor. He'd feel more comfortable facing the dream if he were properly equipped.

It began lifting one of its hands. Alistair stepped back, unsure of what it was going to do.

He had no weapon, no armor, no allies.

But this was a dream, wasn't it? He shouldn't _need_ weapons or armor or allies. Then again, he should have been able to summon weapons and armor and allies.

The black talons glittered in the light.

What was it doing? A spell? An attack?

Alistair tensed, waiting.

It waved.

A few small shakes of its hand, shy and unsure.

He was so shocked by the strangeness that he waved back. "Hello..."

The Aspect's voice was an echo in his mind. A horrible, familiar echo.

~~_Ah. Yes, wel-_ ~~

"No. No, no, _no_ , absolutely _NOT_." The Aspect floated back a bit, its shoulders rising in what looked like fear. "I may not have perfect control over this world's version of dreaming, but I _refuse_ to endure this. Go! Leave! Begone, demon! Or, whatever you are! Get out of my dream!"

Unfortunately, the Aspect didn't follow his command to disappear. Instead it wrung its hands nervously, its head dipped, as if it were ashamed.

Anger rose in Alistair, his hands curling into fists, and he took a step forward with determination. If it wouldn't leave when he told it to, he would _make_ it leave. This was _his_ dream, after all. 

The Aspect shot back, its arms raised in front of it, shrinking away from him.

~~_A, a different voice, th_~~ en? Another manner of speaking?"

Its voice changed as it spoke, becoming more lifelike, rather than the echoing mental-speak it had been using. It even made a show of moving its jaw as it spoke.

Alistair froze. Its new voice was familiar, too.

"You...you sound like Duncan." The Aspect nodded, floating a few inches closer, arms lowering. Alistair snarled, his voice low. "You _tortured_ us for your amusement, you _killed_ Salome for your damned _story_ , and now you speak to me with _my dead mentor's voice?_ "

The Aspect wavered in the air, its arms reflexively rising again. "It's easier for me to use a voice that's already known!"

"Pick. Another. Voice."

The Aspect wrung its hands again, floating side to side fretfully. Thinking, Alistair assumed. It finally stopped, turning slightly towards him.

"Would this voice be better?" A lighter voice, with an accent that reminded him of the Hero of Ferelden but not quite sounding the same.

He narrowed his eyes. "That depends on who that voice belongs to."

"It belongs to Tamlen, the Hero of Ferelden's companion? The one that became a Shriek?" It didn't sit well with Alistair, using the voice of anyone he knew even slightly, but he couldn't stand any more of the echoing mental speech. "You heard enough of his voice for me to imitate, between the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the attack on the camp."

"You've taken the memory of his voice from _my_ mind?!" 

It raised its hands in front of it, motioning wildly. "I haven't looked through your mind, or invaded your thoughts, I just sampled some voices, I swear! We're wasting time! "

Alistair rubbed his forehead, unsure of how one could feel a headache coming on within a dream. "Fine, _fine_. So, the Author, inhabiting the Aspect, using Tamlen's voice, has appeared in my dream about the Fade. Wonder which haunted corner of my mind all of _this_ was hiding in..."

The Aspect - the _Author_ \- floated closer to him. "Almost right. Yes, I'm using Tamlen's voice, and the Aspect's form."

"But...?"

"But this _is_ the Fade. Not a dream. Or, not a dream from Salome's world, but from yours. You're Fade-dreaming."

"What... _how?_ There is no Fade in the world, how could I be 'Fade-dreaming' when I'm no longer in Thedas? I shouldn't even be able to reach it!"

"I reopened your connection to the Fade. I needed to talk to you, to both of you, really, but it's easier to enter a Fade dream than a neural dream. I could reopen connection with _you_ faster than I could with Salome, since you were connected to the Fade back in your world."

The thought made Alistair's headache worse. "You said you needed to _talk._ Allow me to give you some good conversation starters. What am I doing in Salome's world? _How_ did I get there? Why awaken my memories? And what was that, that _thing_ that I saw in the fire?!"

The Author floated back and forth as if pacing, its skeletal feet swaying with each nervous turn it took. "I brought you to Salome because I...I felt that I owed her an apology." It stopped and slumped. "I've never had that much trouble with a story, and everything I put her, you, _all of you_ through...It _was_ a good story," it declared defensively, before becoming dejected again. "But it was...cruel. I responded immaturely to the Anchor's effect on me. Watching Salome be eaten by Nightmare..." It shivered, all of its limbs quivering in fear and disgust. "It was terrible. She...she was awake until the last second. And Nightmare took its time. Her screams...they were so loud..." It stopped, eyeless carapace facing him. "She didn't tell you?"

"No..." Alistair's skin crawled, and his stomach twisted. "I don't think she remembers it. I _hope_ she doesn't. But _you_." His body tensed with fury. "You stood by and watched Nightmare eat her... _slowly_...while she screamed...and did _nothing?!_ " 

"That was when I realized I'd gone too far..." The Author shivered again and resumed its floating pacing. "I had to make it up to her. You weren't supposed to survive in your world, but you _did_ , thanks to her, so you were an extra character in your story. I knew I could take you without upsetting your world's balance, and give the two of you a chance in _her_ world. So I pulled you through to this world from the Fade through a dream."

"A... _dream_..." It sounded too much like a fairytale.

"All the worlds have dreams. We can make connections between different worlds' dreams, creating ways for us to travel into them. I crafted the connection between your two worlds through her _neural_ _dreams_ the first time, and your _Fade-dreams_ this time."

"So, you came to Thedas, then, what, lured me into the Fade and transported me?"

"You were already there. I just had to make the opening from the Fade into Salome's world. It was easy. The whole thing was supposed to be _easy_."

Alistair blinked. This was the first clue he'd gotten as to what he had done between watching Halea seal the Fade Rift at Adamant, and waking up in a hospital in Salome's world a year ago. "What was I doing in the Fade?"

"Looking for a way to Salome. It was all very romantic, and it even made the transition easier on you! Then you two connected. It felt so _right_ when you two met here. I checked in on you from time to time, and you were both doing so well. Then I realized that you were finally going to awaken!"

"Why keep my memories from me? Did you think I wouldn't find out about my own story?"

It waved its hands in distress. "No, no! I had _planned_ for you to find out that way! It was going to bring you two together, and she would realize she wasn't crazy, and you'd have your past but you'd understand that your world would be fine without you! But..."

Alistair finished the Author's sentence. "But something went wrong."

"Yes."

"What was it? What went wrong?"

"I planned to appear to you when you awoke. But Salome's world is difficult for me to remain in for long amounts of time outside of a dream. It was easier to use your Fade connection to appear to you while you were awake. It was supposed to be a nice, _simple_ conclusion. But when I came through the Fade..." The Author took a deep breath, skeletal ribs expanding and contracting. "Something else came through with me." The Author wrapped its bony hands around its tentacles, like a child holding onto their braids nervously.

"That thing...in the fire...Is _that_ what came through?" The Author nodded. " _How could you let it get past you?!_ "

"It didn't 'get past me!' It _invaded_ me!" The Author ran its hands over its tentacles and shuddered. "It got _inside_ of me. I didn't realize it until I was through! It took almost all of my power to get it out of me!"

"It said you _made_ it," Alistair said accusingly.

"I...I tore off a piece of myself and shoved the _parasite_ into the piece. Then it disappeared. I was going to throw it back into the Fade! I might have even tried aiming for the Void, but it _disappeared_. It may think I 'made' it, but I _unwillingly_ gave it a form...it did the rest..."

"What _is_ it?"

The Author pulled its tentacles sharply, bowing its head low. "I'm still not sure." Its head rose hopefully "But I want to help! And I need to get into Salome's world to help. Get my own more solid form." It held its hands out, pleading.

Alistair shook his head emphatically. "You're not hitching a ride in _me_."

The Author slumped. "Fine. If you get me a vessel, I'll be able to help. It needs to be -"

The sky flickered.

Both the solid golden light and the bright green lightning rapidly dimmed and brightened.

The Author looked up. "We're out of time!" It swept forward quickly, and Alistair stepped back again, hands raised in defense. It stopped just in front of him, close enough that he could see the details on the blood-red metal cuffs that decorated its borrowed body. "Alistair, _listen_. Tell Salome that she needs to ask Min about a vessel transfer where you were found."

The sky flickered again. Alistair turned and saw the distant statue of the pleading woman fade away. "What's happening?"

"What normally happens at the end of a dream. Don't forget, Alistair! Vessel transfer! _Don't forget!_ "

The sky flickered once more, and all became dark.

* * *

He heard beeping.

Alarm clock? Fire station alarm?

He tried to open his eyes. The light they shut out was so bright it hurt, and he shut them again.

He heard someone say something about blinds.

He tried to open his eyes again. The light was dimmer.

He opened his eyes more. He could see outlines of people around him.

His throat was sore, he had a massive headache, and he couldn't quite understand what the figures were saying.

An outline came closer to him, and suddenly he was very, very afraid. Don't touch, don't let it touch you, _don't let it touch you-_

"Alistair?" The figure called his name gently with a familiar voice.

He blinked and willed his eyesight to focus. Dark stars in a sea of amber. Deep brown eyes, roads he would wander forever given the chance.

"Salome..." His mouth felt swollen.

A cold hand lightly brushed over his forehead and hair. Paused. Again, the touch more sure this time, the hand stopping to rest on the side of his face.

A tired voice from the figure next to her. "Mr. Theirin, I'm Dr. Summers. How are you feeling?"

The hospital. He'd woken up in the hospital. Again.

"I feel...like my head is stuffed with...mashed potatoes..."

"He's a little dehydrated." The tired voice, Dr. Summers, was talking to her now. "We'll give him more fluids, and maybe something to eat if he's got an appetite. He hasn't panicked since we put him on the drip and started bringing the dose down, but be careful anyway. And _don't_ touch the cuffs! See you Friday for dinner. _With_ cupcakes."

The doctor left.

He felt the indentation Salome made when she sat on the mattress next to his arm. He tried to lift a hand up to her and couldn't. He felt tugging at his wrist and realized what 'cuffs' the doctor had been talking about.

"Am I chained to the bed for sleepwalking? Or is this a very specific kind of intimate adventure?" He asked it with as much of a smile as he could muster. "Seems like something Zevran would suggest."

She lightly tapped his cheek. "You decided to run off into a fire by yourself, disappeared, reappeared, then tried to deck everyone who came near you. They had to take your temperature _somehow_. You were so scared they had to sedate you _and_ use the cuffs." Her voice lowered. "It's just you and me right now. What happened in the fire? What did you see?"

He sighed, and went to reach for her hand before the cuffs reminded him of their presence on his wrists.

She saw the movement and placed her hand in his, as he should have done back in Thedas when he was watching over her sickbed. That had been before he knew her, knew how he felt about her, knew her heart and her intention. If he could do so again, he'd take her hand every time.

They'd figure this out. Together.

"Maker, have I got a story for you..."


	7. Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DIY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

Salome sighed, rubbing at her eyes. “One more time: the Fade is connected to this world, but not really?”

Alistair nodded his head. “As far as I can understand it, yes.” 

“And...the Author fucked up?”

“By bringing over whatever that _thing_ was, then separating it from itself and letting it loose upon the world.”

“So why can’t the _Author_ get it?”

“It didn’t get the chance to say, but if I could hazard a guess I would say that it needs a vessel to fully enter here and then ‘absorb’ that _thing_ back into itself.” Alistair said with a shrug. Or, as much of a shrug as he could manage, still being attached to the hospital bed by the restraints. Aunt Ruthie had told her that the next attending doctor needed to examine him before he could get the restraints off. Salome itched to mess with the straps again, at least give him a little movement, but her aunt had warned her that any evidence of tampering would result in an automatic denial for release from the next doctor.

“And it wants me to talk to Min, who I _just_ fucking met, about a ritual for vessel transferring and shit?”

“That seems to be the case.”

“No.”

Alistair raised an eyebrow at that. “No?”

“No. I’m not doing that.” She got up and started pacing, energy building up in her arms and legs, her mind starting to spin. “Something’s wrong. _Something’s WRONG_ . There’s some sort of shit that the monster, or whatever the fuck it is, is trying to _force_ to happen.”

The beeps measuring Alistair’s pulse sped up at the word ‘monster.’ Alistair told her about the monster he saw in the fire. The one that could drag its fingers through its body like it was cake. Salome really wished he hadn’t used a description that was directly related to her job. Hearing about the mannequin-monster-thing had been awful, but it was just as awful to watch Alistair as he described it. His heart rate had jumped all over the place, and his entire body had tensed when he told certain details. Like how it had been able to manipulate the material of Alistair’s mask. And they didn’t know if it could do that to other people’s _bodies_. No wonder Alistair was fucking terrified.

But as scary as the monster was, there was something else wrong. _Something_ that prickled the back of her brain. It got pressure building up in her head and tension tightening her shoulders and chest. 

It didn't make sense.

The Author being here didn’t make sense.

The monster didn’t make sense.

Alistair being here _did_ make sense, in that Hallmark-movie way. Poetic justice, or comforting denouement, or just a good, ol’ fashioned happy ending. Everything had been resolved, pretty much.

So why add in a new monster and an old enemy? Why connect the Fade to _here_ and bring them back into the story when it made more sense to just tie it all up in a nice, neat bow and put it the fuck _away_?

“Salome?” Alistair’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. The tightness stayed in her shoulders and chest, and the pressure turned to an ache in her temples.

“Alistair, _none of it makes sense_. The _Author’s_ back?! There’s a nameless fucking _monster_ on the loose?! Are you fucking _kidding_ me?! Why is it happening if it doesn’t make any fucking sense?” Alistair watched her pace back and forth next to his bed. Her mind spun faster and faster with each step. “I don’t get it, I just don’t fucking get it!”

“It’s alright to be scared, Salome,” he said. “Maker knows I am.”

“Yeah! Of _course_ I’m scared! Doesn’t change the fact that there's no reason for the Author to be here, or a monster. You getting your memories back? Sure. Everything going to shit _this_ badly?” She sat back on the mattress, fingers scratching at the sides of her face. “This...this _story_ or _plot_ or whatever is off the fucking _rails_. A ritual? A vessel? What, is the Author going to fight the monster? Are we the sidekicks? Are we the Mystery Gang to the Author's Scooby _fucking_ Doo?!” She forced herself to lower her hands, looking at the gunk she’d just accumulated underneath her fingernails and immediately trying to clean each nail out with another, scraping harder and going over them again and again.

Her dread grew in the silence.

“Well,” Alistair started quietly. “What if _I'm_ the prob-”

“ _NO._ ” Sharp and loud, like lightning. Appropriate, because she felt like her entire body was being slightly electrocuted. “You are _not_ the problem.”

“Salome, I came _from a video game_ . I’m not supposed to be _real_ , let alone _here_. You’ve said it yourself, I’m from a story, this is the ‘real’ world.”

“Then you’re taking an existential crisis really _fucking_ well,” she said angrily, going back to scratching her face.

His arm twitched, like he wanted to reach over and stop her, but the cuffs wouldn’t let him. He huffed in frustration and tried to lean over as far as he could to get her attention.

“We should at least consider the possibility that my being here is what caused all of this.”

“Yeah, then what’s the solution, Alistair? That you go back? That you _die?!_ ”

“I’d prefer we find a different solution, truth be told. But if I need to go back, or, yes, even die, to get that thing out of this world? I’ll do it.” Her hands stopped, nails hovering over her face. “I took an oath, when I became a Grey Warden. I would have kept it if I’d needed to, fighting the Archdemon. I’d do the same to rid this world of that monster.”

She was caught between wanting to scream at him, and wanting to cry and fling herself into his arms like a fucking Disney princess throwing a tantrum. She grabbed his hand instead, face going hot with anger and despair. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Well, hopefully we’d weigh _all_ our options _before_ I threw myself into a Fade Rift.” He forced a nervous laugh. 

“Starting with the vessel transfer thing.” She groaned and let herself fall forward, her forehead landing on his shoulder. “I really _hate_ that we’re going to team up with the fucking _Author_ to solve this bullshit. It feels like the wrong move.”

"But it's the only one we've got, I'm afraid."

"Fine. Guess I'll go to the library and talk with Min. You stay and rest, and try to get them to let you out of here." She sat up and shifted her weight to begin standing up when Alistair’s hand tightened around hers, his heart rate skyrocketing. He leaned forward, like he was going to say something, but he hesitated. The beeps started to get dangerously fast. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, sweat starting to roll down his forehead, and slowly let go of her hand.

“Sorry. I...no, nevermind. Sorry.” He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut.

Salome shifted back and took his hand again. He opened his eyes but didn’t look at her.

She took out her phone and called Rel. He picked up almost immediately. “Hey, everything good at the hospital?”

“Yeah but Alistair’s bored as shit and he’s not out of the cuffs yet.” She squeezed his hand but looked out of the window at the hospital’s parking lot. “You free to come hang out with him? I’ve got to go take care of something real quick.”

“Sure. I want to know what the fuck happened yesterday, anyway.”

“Okay, go easy on him, though.” She turned to look at Alistair and gave him a half-smile. “He’s not throwing right hooks or anything but it hasn’t been fun for him. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Don’t feed Pappers when you get back, he’ll try to tell you that I didn’t feed him and he’s starving with his big sad eyes, but he’s a liar.” She heard Rel speak more faintly in a sickeningly adoring tone, obviously talking to Paprika. “You’re a liar, yes you are, oh yes you are! Alright, see you soon!

Alistair leaned back as she hung up. She took a spare paper napkin from the tray with half-eaten hospital food and swiped at the sweat on his forehead.

“Sorry…”

“For being sweaty? I don’t think that’s something you can control. Unless you can?” She squinted at him, earning a wry smile in return.

She chatted with him about nonsense things, keeping him distracted until Rel showed up with a stack of clothes and a box of pizza.

“Yes, I know, I’m amazing,” Rel said, setting down the clothes at the foot of the hospital bed. “I got you some fresh clothes from your locker at the station _and_ brought over some of the best goddamn pizza in town. I’m even willing to feed you with my own two hands, Alistair. That’s just the kind of friend I am.”

Alistair laughed, not a nervous laugh he would use to fill silence or mask awkwardness, but a genuine one, if tired. “I’m not exactly hungry just now, but I appreciate the change of clothes. Thank you.” He looked to Salome. “Thank you,” he said more quietly.

She gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, angling herself so that she was mostly to the side of him. He seemed a hell of a lot more comfortable around her, but she wanted to give him as much room, as much freedom, as she could while he was still restrained to the bed. 

And while he was still afraid of a nameless monster reaching its hands out and digging its fingers into him like it was playing with clay.

“You’ve got a little something right here, dear sister of mine” Rel said, circling his finger around his mouth.

She wiped off the sweat that had transferred to her face from kissing Alistair with the back of her hand, then smacked Rel’s shoulder with it. “You don’t _have_ to be such an _ass_ , you know.”

“ _Someone’s_ got to be,” Rel said with a grin, jokingly brushing at the spot where she’d hit him.

* * *

Min waved at Salome when she walked into the Dismal Swamp branch of the public library. “Hey! How did those books turn out for you? Figure out anything?”

Salome set the books down on the circulation desk. “No, but we got a new lead…”

“Say no more!” Min plucked her notebook from her desk and led Salome back to the Starbucksian armchairs.

Min had been interested in the story Salome had told her the first time, but Salome didn’t want to assume that Min actually _believed_ that it was real. Not that Salome had done a lot to try to convince her it was, but now she had to explain about the Author. 

She watched Min’s face as she filled her in. The whole thing was an absolute shitshow, a fucking goddamn _mess_ , and she had to hope that this random librarian that she’d met _twice_ would be willing to help her find even more weird shit.

Min snapped her notebook closed again when they were done, drumming her fingers on its cover. “So, there are plenty of stories about how to trap monsters _in_ vessels, like bottles and boxes, but not a ton about making those vessels a proxy for them. Well, except for avatars of gods in some religions, but I think that’s kind of way beyond the scope of what you’re talking about. It’s...not a _god_ , right?”

Salome shook her head. “At least I don’t _think_ it is?”

Min tilted her head side-to-side, weighing the thoughts in her mind. “There’s folklore and myth and scripture about inviting the presence of other beings, for good or for evil, into objects, or sometimes places like temples. I really don’t want you to go around messing with religious ceremonies, though…or anything with spirits really...even if you don’t believe in that kind of thing, just on the off-chance it’s all _real_ , I don’t want _you_ to get mixed up in something you can’t handle.”

Min’s concern for Salome’s safety was touching and frustrating. She sunk down in the not-as-comfortable-as-it-looked armchair. “Great. So we don’t have anything we can do without making things about a million times worse.” She sighed and leaned her head back, trying to think. “Could we make up our own ceremony or some shit like that?”

Min’s fingers stopped tapping on the cover of her notebook. “Now _there’s_ an idea...”

Salome lifted her head enough to squint at Min. “Really?”

“Yeah! Rituals all start _somewhere_ . I don’t see why we _couldn’t_ make one up!”

They talked about ceremonies, rituals, vessels, and all things semi-related to spirituality, religion, folklore, and myth for what felt like hours.

They pulled out encyclopedias and dictionaries and tapped keywords into databases for what felt like days.

They wrote notes and crossed them out and erased and wrote more for what felt like years.

It was exhausting, getting the basic knowledge for what they needed, crafting their ritual so that it followed conventions of other rituals _without_ incorporating potentially dangerous symbols, words, or actions from other religions or systems. After all, if the Author and fucking _Dragon Age_ were real, did they really want to accidentally summon an Eldritch god to bring about the destruction of the world as they knew it?

Throughout all of it, Salome texted with Rel to get updates from the hospital. Alistair was free of the restraints an hour after Salome had left, but didn’t get discharged for another couple of hours after.

Rel told her that they were going to hang out at her house until she got back. “For Paprika’s sake,” he texted. Salome knew it was for _all_ of their sakes. He had been mysteriously silent about the monster Alistair saw in the fire. Either Alistair hadn’t told him yet, or Rel didn’t believe him. Salome didn’t push for details. It’d be better to talk about it in person. With food. And maybe caffeine. Or alcohol. Definitely with company.

It was just shy of six o’clock when Min and Salome put the final touches on their vessel transfer ritual.

Salome felt childish, making up a ritual to summon something into being. But they had to try.

She pulled out her phone to text Rel just as a message from him popped up. A message with a link to the local news, with three words that sent panic zinging through her: “CALL ME NOW”

Salome clicked on the link and got as far as the article’s headline.

_MAN FOUND WITH BRAIN ‘SCOOPED OUT,’ ALIVE_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This one was a slog, sorry for taking a bit to get it done!)


	8. Vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least THEY got to choose the vessel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Alistair~

The television showed blurry images, glimpses of a body between other bodies rushing around behind yellow lines of tape. The ambulance’s EMTs surrounding a gurney. The weak lift of a hand.

The report had caught their attention because, well, reports of violence always catch people’s attention, don’t they?

But then they used that word.

_‘Scooped_.’

Too strange a choice to be coincidental.

And another word.

‘ _Alive._ ’

That was confusing, strange. How could someone be _alive_ after having a piece of their brain removed?

Alistair and Rel stared at the television. Panic sent shivers across Alistair’s shoulders and sweat beaded his forehead and palms.

He had explained to Rel, as best as he could, about the monster from the fire. Rel had accepted the story, concerned for Alistair’s mental state. but hadn’t believed in an actual monster.

He now stared at the television, slack-jawed, brows drawn in confusion.

“That’s...that’s not...it _can’t_ be…” Rel stumbled through his thoughts aloud, moving slowly from disbelief to doubt.

Alistair had no doubt as to who - _what_ \- was responsible. He almost wished he did; he might have been comforted in the mere possibility of the monster being a figment of his imagination.

Now it had attacked someone. To what purpose, he had no idea. 

“We have to tell Salome,” he said, as if in a daze. Rel immediately pulled out his phone.

He hadn’t assumed that the monster would begin attacking people. Himself? Yes. It had known his name, which meant it had something to do with him. If it was an exiled part of the Author, combined with some Fade creature, then it would make more sense that it would know him. It could have even chosen to go after Salome. He was thankful it _hadn’t_ , but it would have made more sense than it attacking a random person.

Rel’s phone rang a moment later. He put it on speaker.

“Was it that thing?!” Salome’s voice was quiet, but full of panic, the sound of wind behind her.

“We don’t know,” Alistair said, leaning towards the phone. “But that’s too weird to be a coincidence.”

“Would Aunt Ruthie be able to tell us anything?”

“She’s been off-shift,” Rel said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if she’d tell us, anyway.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Her voice was louder now, the wind gone. They heard the murmur of another voice asking a question in the background. “Shit, hang on.” Salome’s voice speaking back, muffled and distant, then returning to normal. “Okay, I’m on my way to the house. I’m bringing Min with me. She’s decided to break her professional code and hang out with a patron.”

They heard an unfamiliar voice come over the phone. “I’m off the clock, this is a personal choice and I want in on whatever spookiness is going on!”

“Hopefully we won’t get you killed,” Alistair said back.

“Is _that_ the video game guy?” Min wasn’t speaking to them, but they heard her clearly. Rel looked at Alistair in confusion.

“Yeah, that was him,” Salome said back to Min before returning to them. “We’re on our way, we’re going to pick up some supplies for the ritual we made up.”

“Ritual?!” Rel’s confusion deepend.

“Just listen to Alistair, Rel!” Salome said, then hung up.

Rel looked at Alistair. “Video game guy? Ritual? What the fuck is going on?”

Alistair shook his head. “More things you aren’t going to believe, I’m afraid.”

“Did _both_ of you have a psychotic break?!” His confusion turned to anger as he stood up, body tense. “Did you drag _my sister_ into your hallucinations?!”

“Wow. Tell me what you _really_ think, Rel,” Alistair said, immediately regretting the sarcasm that came out in his awkward response.

“I _think_ all of you are going fucking insane! _Clinically_ ! You guys need _help_.”

Alistair rubbed at his forehead. There had to be a way to convince Rel. But any method Alistair could think of, via the game itself, via an internet video, via a Google search of his name...each option seemed just as unlikely to work as the other.

_Start with the simplest solution_ , Alistair decided. He pulled out his phone, opened YouTube, and typed his own name into the search bar. He offered Rel his phone.

Rel snatched it out of his hand, looking at the results. “What the fuck is this?” He scrolled through the options, then glared at Alistair. “You got the same name as a video game character, so what?”

Alistair pointed at the phone. “Choose one of the videos.”

Rel angrily tapped one, and it started playing.

Alistair heard the grumpy mage speaking, the part that started his first ‘scene’ in the game. How little it bothered him to think about his life as scenes and games and stories gave him a brief feeling of guilt. He wasn’t any more real than the others in the game, and yet he felt completely separate from them just the same.

Rel looked from the phone, to Alistair, and back again. The video was brief. Rel tapped the phone again, replaying the video. Then he replayed it again.

The video ended, and he stared at Alistair. Alistair began to sweat under his gaze.

“Well?”

Rel shook his head, slowly at first, then faster and more decisively. “There’s no way you're from a _video game_. You’re some kind of method-acting cosplayer, or you're mentally delusional and you’ve escaped from an asylum.” He held up the phone. “There’s _no way_.”

Alistair opened his mouth to argue with him, but Rel shoved the phone into Alistair’s chest and stalked into a different room. Alistair followed him, trying to figure out how to convince him.

Salome’s house was small, mostly organized with a few neatly stacked piles of various things on certain surfaces. Her living room and kitchen were colorful, decorated with art of plants and flowers, a mixture of rich jewel tones in everything from the paint on her walls to the pillows on her couch. Her bedroom was softer, a grayish lavender color with dove gray bed covers and ash-colored furniture.

Alistair hadn’t been in this room yet. Even before regaining his memories, when he and Salome were ‘just dating,’ he had only ever seen her living room and kitchen, studying the continuous room while waiting for her to finish getting ready for one of their dates.

This room was a sharp contrast from the rest of her house. It appeared to be equal parts reading room, office, and storage. A thick carpet with a geometric pattern covered most of the floor, its orange, red, and tan color scheme clashing with the light blue walls. Plastic boxes were stacked along one wall, with labels hand-written on pieces of tape, indicating certain boxes were decorations, others were winter clothes, and others were full of keepsakes of some kind. Bookshelves lined the other wall, covered in books organized with seemingly no system, and broken up with figurines or standing frames in some places. Chemistry textbooks were shelved next to comic books, crafting books were shelved next to classical literature. A small entertainment system was set up in a corner, various consoles lining shelves underneath a smaller, older television. Videogames filled whatever shelves were free, and Alistair guessed that if he had opened the drawers along the bottom of the unit he would have found even more. A low chair was placed in front of the system, strategy books stacked next to it. A small table with a wooden chair took up the other free corner, covered in office supplies that managed to look neatly arranged around the perimeter of the makeshift desk. Her laptop sat on the table, plugged in to charge.

Along the last wall, opposite from the door, was a lumpy, old couch with several blankets thrown onto it. Paprika followed them into the room and climbed up another set of little steps, walking onto the blankets and digging at them to make himself a comfortable nest. The wall above the couch was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes, the frames a mishmash of styles and finishes.

Alistair had to take in all of this quickly, as Rel had stormed into the room and immediately started grabbing two of the pictures off of the bookshelves, throwing them onto the couch (while avoiding Paprika) before taking down more pictures from the wall.

“I don’t think she’d appreciate you messing with her things,” Alistair said carefully. “Even if you _are_ her brother.”

Rel took down the last picture, the scattered empty spaces on the wall leaving noticeable bright blue spots, and stared at the small collection he’d made on the couch. He looked over the collection, moving some frames out of the way, picking others up, and shaking his head.

Alistair came to stand by Rel and looked at the pictures.

They were drawings, in various styles and sizes. Some were printed, others were clearly done by hand. Each drawing had a different signature on it. All of them featured the same central figure.

Alistair reached down and picked up one of the frames. The picture inside of it was no bigger than a playing card. It looked to be hand drawn in ink and colored with marker. It showed a stylized version of him in golden armor. _Cailin’s_ golden armor. His expression looked happy, looking somewhere to the side as if in a candid photo. Confetti drifted around, maybe it was a parade, or a hero’s welcome after the Battle of Denerim.

“You’re telling me,” Rel said slowly, “that all of these are of _you_?”

“I guess they are?” It was a sort of art collection, seemingly done by different artists, depicting him in different ways. He glanced at the other frames on the walls and bookshelves. Some were true photographs, showing friends and family and weddings and famous vacation sites. Some were more drawings, many of what he assumed were other characters from other stories. And a few of the drawings seemed to be of Salome.

In one, she held the dried and pressed rose he had given her, looking down at it with a tender smile.

In another, she was captured mid-jump, a Shriek crouching below her, her expression fierce.

In yet another, she faced Nightmare, tears and terror on her face.

He reached towards the drawing of her standing against Nightmare. It was of the moment after he had been forced out of the Fade, he was sure.

The moment just before it had started to eat her.

_‘She was awake until the last second...’_

_‘Nightmare took its time...’_

_‘Her screams...they were so loud’_

He’d kill the Author. 

He’d kill it for standing by and just watching her die piece by piece.

He’d have to wait until it reabsorbed that monster, then he’d kill them both.

“There’s no _fucking_ way,” Rel said sharply, drawing Alistair out of his thoughts. After a few moments, Rel spoke again, his voice slightly higher. “Why didn’t you _tell me_?”

“I didn’t know. Not until a few days ago. The amnesia part is all true. The revelation of who I was _before_ getting amnesia is what’s difficult to believe.”

Rel took a deep breath. “Let’s say I believe you. I’m not saying I do, but let’s just _pretend_ I believe you. That probably means your monster’s _real_ too.” He took another breath. “I don’t know if I can handle that, man.”

They heard the front door open, Salome calling out their arrival. Alistair stuck his head out of the door and waved at Salome and the woman following behind her, both of them weighed down with plastic shopping bags.

“What are you guys doing in my nerd room?” Salome asked, heavily setting the bags on her kitchen counter.

Alistair leaned against the door frame. “Oh, just admiring all of the portraits you have of me.” He grinned as the rosy blush overtook her face. “They’re very flattering. Although I didn’t see any of the naked pinup variety.”

The woman leaned around Salome to get a look at Alistair, her eyes glinting with a little too much interest. “Naked pinups? You’ve posed before?”

It was Alistair’s turn to blush, and Salome smiled at the woman behind her. “Not that he’s ever mentioned to _me_ , but you know people on the Internet. They’re _very_ creative.”

The woman pulled out her phone with a devious grin. “How do you spell his name again?”

“ _Enough_ ,” Alistair pleaded. He nodded towards Rel, who was hidden from their sight. “Rel came in and looked at these pictures after I showed him a video clip from the game. He’s having a hard time of it. I don’t blame him, though.”

Salome grimaced. “Yeah, I thought that might happen.” 

Rel turned from the collection on the couch and walked towards the door. Alistair moved to let him by, unnerved by how quiet he was.

Salome glanced from Alistair to Rel, then slowly came up to Rel’s side. “Rel? I know it’s a lot-”

“You really scared me,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and turning away from her, head hanging. “The night you called me about that dream. I was _freaking out_ after I left. I would have taken you to the hospital if you hadn’t agreed to talk to your counselor. ‘There’s no way she lost her grip on reality _this_ much without me knowing it.’ Then you seemed okay, you seemed _better_ , and you were moving on. It was psycho-hallucination bullshit a year ago, and now, _now_ I have to actually _believe_ all of this shit?”

“I know it’s a lot, Gavriel.” He picked up his head, turning slightly to look at her. Things were serious when she used his full name. “I thought the same thing, after talking to you that night. Just some too-intense dream, and I recovered from it. Alistair being here...it was confusing, but I didn’t know for sure he was _him_ , you know? But it can’t be coincidence anymore. We can’t be in denial about this. Not when denial means putting other people in danger from some _monster_ that’s out there hurting other people. Even if you don’t want to believe it, you’ve got to. Even if you have to just _pretend_ you believe.”

Rel closed his eyes, his voice strained. “Promise me that if this all ends up being psychosis, you’ll tell me? Before you do anything?”

Alistair saw the tension between the two of them. He also thought he could see a shared sorrow, too.

“I promise, Gavriel. I promise.” She gave his back a few comforting pats, then turned back to Alistair and the woman, giving him the chance to compose himself. “Alright. Alistair, Min. Min, Alistair.” She motioned between the two of them.

“ _Very_ pleased to meet you,” Min said with a wink and an extremely firm handshake.

Alistair flexed his hand after she let go. “Likewise, I think?”

“Introductions, check. Ritual supplies, check. Dark outside, check.” Salome looked at her phone. “It’ll take us twenty minutes to get to P.S. 408, so we should leave in ten minutes. The only thing left is an actual vessel.”

Min sighed. “That’s the part we couldn’t figure out. We've got to provide a physical vessel for it. What should we put this thing in?”

Alistair walked into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “Should it be a doll, perhaps?”

“Definitely fits with the ‘creepy’ vibe,” Salome nodded. “But where are we going to get a doll?” Alistair looked at Salome pointedly, then nodded towards her ‘nerd room.’ She huffed indignantly. “There aren’t any _dolls_ in there, just some figurines!”

Rel suddenly looked up and turned, quickly walking back into the ‘nerd room.’ They heard the sound of plastic being shuffled and lids being removed.

Rel came out of the room a few moments later, holding something relatively small, fluffy, and distressingly pink. “Would this work?”

Min gasped in delight. “You still _have_ one of those?!”

Salome smiled. “It’s _perfect_. Good thinking, Rel.”

Rel nodded. His expression was still grim, but there was a determination underneath it. Alistair was relieved that Rel seemed to have decided to play along, for the moment at least.

* * *

On the drive to the shell of the public school, Salome and Min took turns explaining the ritual they had concocted. They had to go to the school, where Alistair was found unconscious, because it was where he had entered this world. The presumption was, therefore, that the Veil was thin there.

“Veil? As in, the Fade and the Veil?” Alistair asked, confused.

“Probably,” Salome said, glancing at him from the driver’s seat. “Although people who believe in the spiritual realm call it a ‘veil,’ too.”

“Being able to say 'the veil is thin there' helps establish a mystic base for our ritual,” Min said, barely containing her excitement.

“And what the fuck are we doing in this ritual, again?” Rel shifted uncomfortably in the back seat. “You made it up, right? It sounded _ridiculous_ when you were explaining it.”

“I know!” Min’s excitement only increased in the face of whatever shame Rel meant by calling it ‘ridiculous.’ “The whole point of a ritual is to _do_ it. The intention plus the action. Different communities decide on what, how, when, and all of that, but the basic principle is to do an action for a specific purpose that isn’t necessarily tangible. Even small things, like toasting before a drink, count as ritual.”

“Toasting to one’s health, or in congratulations,” Alistair said. _Or toasting to the possibility of a quick or slow death by Blight_ , he thought, the Joining flashing through his memory.

“ _Exactly_!” Min leaned forward between the driver and passenger seats, forcing Rel out of the sprawl that took up over half the seat. “There an action, an intention, and an intangible effect!”

“And there are also specific items used,” Salome added, carefully turning onto a dimly lit street. “You almost always toast with alcohol. You can substitute, but alcohol is traditional for the _ritual_ . And you never use water, because it spoils _the ritual_.”

“Or because people wanted to get everyone wasted,” Rel grumbled.

“True!” Min said with a nod of her head. “So we’ve got objects, action, and intention! We’ve even got a special location, so bonus points for us. We just need the intangible effect to actually happen!”

“Is it really an intangible effect if we’re trying to actually get a supernatural being into the vessel?”

“We can’t physically pick up a spirit and force it into a vessel with our own two hands,” Salome said, “so I think it counts.”

She parked the car along a stretch of wild, overgrown woods. It was an odd place for there to be a small forest, sandwiched between a slowly developing neighborhood of identical houses and the beginnings of the strip malls that made up the shopping district of the city.

They got out of the car and stared at the forest. It was dark between the trees, the kind of dark that lets the shadows dance in your eyes and fear take root in your mind. But Alistair could hear the sounds of frogs and other night creatures. If there was danger waiting for them, it wasn’t bad enough for the animals to go silent.

“City keeps saying they’ll rebuild it,” Rel said, looking at the dark woods. “Haven’t got around to it yet, though. Guess it’s cheaper to let it go wild.”

They jumped at the loud bang of the trunk being slammed shut. Min had all of their bags loaded on her plump arms, the pizza box from the hospital balanced in one hand.

“Let’s go, everyone! We’ve got a ritual to perform!” She walked forward, a spring in her step, and disappeared between the trees.

* * *

The ruins of the school looked like the silhouette of distant jagged mountains. Brick walls of varying heights reached for the deep purple sky. They picked their way over a collapsed section of wall near what must have been the front steps of the school, cautiously stepping onto rotting floorboards. Inside the building, they turned on flashlights, stepping carefully and sweeping the beams of light into rooms they passed. Other than a few vaguely human-shaped forms wrapped in sleeping bags or blankets, they were the only souls in the ruins.

They quickly made their way towards the center of the building, skirting holes in the floor that opened onto pure darkness, or piles of rubble that had fallen through the floors above. Being inside the building itself made them all nervous, even Min, who still kept a bright attitude. “Cheery but cautious,” she’d whispered.

Alistair breathed a sigh of relief when they made it to the school’s gymnasium. Unlike the hallways they left, this part of the school was open to the sky, its roof having fallen in many years before. They had to watch for holes in the floor, still, but it was nice to not have to worry about being buried in rubble from above.

They made their way roughly to the center of the room, and Min set the myriad bags down. She and Salome got to work setting up the materials they would need, while Rel and Alistair cleared the immediate area of rubble as best they could.

They placed the vessel on a blanket, centering the rest of the setup around it. Small candles were set in a circle around the blanket and carefully lit. Alistair’s new training made him wary of using open flames in an area with this much flammable debris, but the flames were small and would be easy to stomp out, if necessary. Salome and Min poured salt in a diamond shape around the blanket. At each of the four corners, they placed a food object: a slice of pizza for North, a bottle of beer for South, a cupcake for West, and a bundle of garlic for East. Min explained each item as they set up, her upbeat chatter starting to teeter into nervous territory.

“Obviously we want the ritual to center around the main object, so we put it in the middle. Candles are a given, there’s _always_ candles or some kind of fire. Salt’s used in all kinds of folklore and superstition, there are enough ties to it being used to ward off evil or whatever that its symbolism should be strong enough. We set the corners up with special food items that are tied to the city, strengthening the invitation to this specific location.”

Finally, they stood behind their assigned food item. Min instructed each of them to eat a piece of food, taking the garlic for herself. “I eat it raw, like, every day. I don’t think any of you could handle it,” she said, popping a clove into her mouth. Alistair was glad to be assigned the pizza. They quickly followed Min's lead, then stood expectantly.

“Okay, arms up and out, like you’re going to give the sky a hug.” They followed Min’s example, Alistair feeling more than a little ridiculous.

“Everyone ready?” Salome asked, waiting until everyone nodded. “Alright. Showtime.”

Salome cleared her throat and recited in a loud voice:

_Writer of stories_

_Wrecker of fate_

_Come into our realm_

_Walk through the gate_

_Bring forth your spirit_

_A form waits for you_

_Soul housed in a vessel_

_You bastard, come through!_

Her voice echoed slightly, bouncing off the broken walls of the school around them. They waited a moment, looking at each other, and at the vessel in the middle of the diamond of salt.

Nothing.

They lowered their arms, each with their own sigh of frustration.

Rel was the first to break the tension. “You know, for a minute there I really wanted it to work.”

Min crossed her arms, frowning at the vessel. “I don’t want to say it _should_ have worked, but...I really feel like it _should_ have worked!”

Alistair scratched at his head. What were they supposed to do if they couldn’t bring the Author through? How were they supposed to take down the thing, the _monster_ , if it wasn’t there to reabsorb it?

He kicked at the old gymnasium floor in dejection, accidentally scattering part of the salt line.

Mechanical whirs sounded as the vessel opened and closed its gigantic, round eyes. It managed to slightly rock itself to one side with another mechanical whir, plastic clacking against plastic. It shifted around until it was facing them. Violently bright pink fur covered its body, topped with a puff of fluffy hair. Light pink ears wiggled up and down, and a neon yellow beak opened and closed as it spoke. “Finally!”

They stopped in their tracks, staring at the vessel.

"We did it! We _actually_ did it! I _knew_ it would work!" Min jumped up and down in victory as Salome broke into disbelieving laughter. Rel stared at the vessel in horror. Alistair watched him carefully, keeping one eye on the vessel.

Salome went to the vessel and picked it up, trying to stifle her laughter. "Author?"

"Yes! Why am I so small? And..." More whirs filled the night. "Why don't I have any arms?"

"Is...is that Furby really possessed?! _For real?!_ " Rel took a step back. Alistair grabbed his arm, stopping him from stepping into the hole in the floor behind him. He barely registered his near miss, eyes locked on the pink toy.

Min clapped her hands then held them out towards Salome. "Let me hold it!"

"Min, it's not a puppy," Salome said with a smile, tossing the vessel to her. The Author's new electronic voice let out a high-pitched wail as it arched through the air into Min's hands.

Alistair was glad to see that Salome's smile was genuine. He had very little knowledge about the toy that the Author now possessed, but it seemed to bring a lot of joy to Salome and Min. At least they could have a little fun for the moment.

Min held the bright pink Furby up, its ears wiggling and its eyes and beak opening and closing. "A possessed Furby! This is _so cool!_ "

Somehow the Author managed to make the toy look unamused. "I'm glad _you're_ enjoying this. I don't know how I can help in _this_ form, except to give instructions. It's going to be very difficult to fight that horrible creature _without arms!_ "

"One thing at a time," Alistair said. "We've gotten you into this world in a vessel. Now we have to plan how to take care of that monster."

"Let's do that back at the house," Salome said, picking up the blanket and blowing out the tiny candles. "We're exposed here, and if that monster attacked someone, there's no telling where it is and whether or not it'll come after us."

"Yeah, I'd rather not meet that thing without a way of protecting ourselves," Rel said quietly, glancing around the ruins.

Min chatted with the Author, asking question after question, its tiny electronic voice getting increasingly more agitated. They exited the school the way they came in, careful of debris, rotten wood, and residents of the ruins.

Alistair offered Salome a hand to help her through the outer wall into the wilds outside of the school. She took it, clearing the last few bricks, and kept holding his hand as they walked into the woods towards the road.

There was tension in the set of her shoulders, and a slight frown on her face. "I know that look," he said quietly, leaning towards her. "You want to say something. What is it?"

She looked at Min and Rel, walking ahead of them, and slowed her step a little, pulling them back. "Did you decide if you're going to stay?"

"Stay? Stay here, in this world, you mean?" She nodded, looking away from him. Her hand drifted to her face, rubbing nervously. He gently took her other hand, stopping her. "I'd prefer to stay with you. I _want_ to stay with you. But this monster found me, _sought me out_ seemingly for a reason, and has now attacked a regular person. This whole situation is..." He shook his head, searching for the word. "Unstable. This situation is unstable, this monster is unstable. And I can't be selfish enough to doom anyone else to facing that monster. If it sought _me_ out, then all of this has something to do with _me_. And if I need to leave this world, or worse _,_ to get rid of that monster, I will."

Her head tilted back, looking at the branches above them. " _Fuck_..." It came out as a whisper. "That's just like you."

He put his arms around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. "'Just like me?' Should I be flattered, or insulted?"

She laughed into his chest, then looked up at him. "Noble, well-intentioned, and kind of dumb. Like spending the night in a fucking _chair_ , _across the fucking room_ from me when you let me stay in your bed in Skyhold."

He jokingly winced. "Ah, yes, I remember the crick in my neck with fondness." He laughed, just a touch nervously. "I know it wasn't the answer you were hoping for, but I'm not going lie to you. I _want_ to stay here, with you. I _want_ us to figure out a way to make that happen. But if it comes down to getting what I want or saving this world, I'll choose to save it." He leaned back and looked into her dark eyes. "We'll figure things out."

"Okay." She sighed and stepped back, taking his hand. They walked through the rest of the woods in thoughtful silence.

Alistair didn't realize that the woods themselves had gone silent as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer’s note: Y’all, this story is getting rough. Right now, it’s a slog to write, and I don’t know where it’s going. But, I don’t want to give up on it. I just want to acknowledge the trouble I’m having, and (if you’re reading this) to thank you for sticking with me so far! Writing makes me really happy, it gives me something to look forward to and it occupies my brain in a great way, but it’s tough when a story is giving me trouble. Again, thanks for sticking with me! (And no hard feelings if you don’t!) ~BB
> 
> \---
> 
> Consulted materials (research on 'ritual' as a term):  
> Boudewijnse, Barbara. "Ritual." _The Brill Dictionary of Religion_ , edited by Kocku Von Stuckrad, Brill, 2nd edition, 2005. _Credo Reference_ , online database. Accessed 08 Oct. 2020.  
> Barnard, Alan, et al. "rite of passage." _Encyclopedia of Social and Cultural Anthropology_ , edited by Alan Barnard, and Jonathan Spencer, Routledge, 2nd edition, 2009. _Credo Reference_ , online database. Accessed 08 Oct. 2020.


	9. Consume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the pursuit of knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Unnamed~

It watched.

Standing in the middle of trees, a forest, it watched them leave the place where it had come through.

The school.

It reached its fingers into its mouth and touched its tongue, leaving a depression as it remembered learning.

What it called learning.

The man it had learned from had imparted one last thing to it before it took the knowledge from him: what it was to feel fear.

Which let it learn what it was to cause fear.

Which felt good.

It had learned from the man, caught unawares as it walked past where it rested. One reach of its arm, one brush of its fingers, and it had learned so much.

It hadn’t taken too much.

Just a bit.

Just a bite.

Just enough to push the piece into itself, merge it so it added to its knowledge.

And now it knew.

_So many things_.

It used its fingers to smooth its tongue back to its original shape.

That it had learned, too. The phrase. Something about practice.

Yes, practice made perfect.

It had gathered the splattered pieces of itself and taken the time to smooth itself back into perfection, placed things where they should go, pressed together seams until they were sealed.

Its head had taken longer. Nerves and connective tissue were difficult to connect without taking more of itself apart first.

Practice.

It had first reached for him, felt its fingers sink into what it thought was his face.

It had seen something in his eyes. When he hadn’t shown his teeth back ( _smiled_ , it now knew it was called), it had reached for him. Something in him called to it.

Moth and flame, it understood, from its new knowledge.

Its touch had brought fear to his eyes. It hadn’t understood what _fear_ was yet. Not until the man had walked by it and it had reached out.

Reaching for the man had been an idle fancy, a wonder. 

What would happen if…?

The man’s body gave way to its touch.

It took part of where it had felt the call to _him_.

Took the piece, added it to itself. It found out what would happen if...

Learning happened. Knowledge happened. Understanding happened.

It needed more.

To understand more.

To know more.

It stood among the trees and watched them leave.

It didn’t need to follow them. It knew where they were.

It always knew where they were. Where _he_ was.

Like an echo reaching back towards its source.

Not quite, though.

Maybe it didn’t have the knowledge for what this was like just yet.

It needed to learn more.

It would understand why it was called to him once it learned more.

It turned its gaze to where it, _they,_ had come through.

The school.

Learning happened in a school.

It felt a different kind of pull. Yes, there was more knowledge to be gained in there.

More knowledge to be added.

More knowledge to taste.

It turned to face the school, its head suddenly tilting to one side so far that it rested on its shoulder.

Broken neck.

Again.

It used its hands to push its head upright, then massaged the bones and skin back into place.

Maybe with the new knowledge it would gain, it would learn how to move so it didn’t constantly break itself.

Although it was getting better at repairing itself quickly and completely.

Practice makes perfect.

It moved towards the school to find more knowledge.

Practice makes perfect.


	10. Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is knowing better, or worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

Holy shit, it worked.

It actually _worked_.

They drove back towards Salome’s house, Alistair seeming pleased, Rel finally more confused than terrified, and Min so excited she might legitimately burst.

The Author-Furby-Vessel seemed frustrated, but kept answering Min’s questions, which seemed exactly like the kind of questions she _would_ ask a possessed 90’s toy: What’s it like to be a Furby? What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen in a story? How old are you?

Salome...Salome wasn’t sure _how_ she felt.

They’d gotten the Author into a vessel.

And...now what?

Hunt down the creature like a gang of teen sleuths? Slay it like a band of Chosen Ones?

Salome wasn’t sure she even wanted to get close enough to legitimately _see_ it.

And she was tired of calling it ‘it.’

“We should name it,” she said suddenly, making Min pause mid-question.

“Me?” The whir and clack of plastic signaled that the Author was blinking is creepy doll-eyes, probably in confusion.

“ _The monster_.”

Salome heard the sad Furby-sigh and whir of ears lowering. It was getting used to its body quickly, for all the complaining it did. “ _I_ want a name, too…”

“Actually, naming the monster’s a great idea! Takes away some of its scariness,” Min said. “At least, it might. You’re the only one who’s actually _seen_ it, right?”

“Yes, and it’s not something I would wish on anyone else.” Alistair rubbed his palms on his legs nervously. Salome glanced at him and caught the glint of sweat on his forehead as they passed streetlight after streetlight.

Min patted Alistair’s shoulder comfortingly from the back seat. “Sorry, but honestly if you name it, you might feel better.”

He laughed nervously in response and cleared his throat.

“Well, I’m vetoing bullshit generics like ‘the monster’ or ‘the creature,’” Salome said.

“The Thing?” Min provided. Salome shot her a look in the rearview mirror. “Right, no bullshit generic names.”

“It could be something bigger. ‘Nightmare’ _was_ a pretty good name for the demon we faced in the Fade.”

“Oh my god,” Min squealed. “ _That sounds so cool!_ ”

“It _wasn’t_ ,” Salome said. She felt shivers across her body and heard a hard _crunch_ in the depths of her memory. A shitty memory, but _that_ was something her brain held onto? Fucking bullshit. She jerked suddenly, surprised by Alistair’s hand on her shoulder. He drew it back uncertainly. “Shit, sorry. Just...remembering.”

An awkward silence filled the car for a few too many moments.

“What about The Being?” Min asked.

“That’s not scary enough,” Alistair said. “I’d like it to be less scary, believe me, but we can’t name it something so general that it lulls us into complacency.”

“So ‘Mr. Scary-pantaloons’ is out, too?” Alistair rolled his eyes.

Rel finally spoke up. He had been staring out of the window since they had gotten back into the car, one hand holding his chin. Salome couldn’t get a good look at his face from where she was, but she suspected he looked how he normally looked when he was confused: somewhere halfway between pissed off and surprised. He kept his eyes on the world outside of the car. “Let’s just forget it.”

“Rel, we can’t _just forget it_ ,” Salome said, trying to catch his eye in the rearview mirror but still not able to see him. “This is the whole reason why we’re in danger, why we’ve got a possessed Furby, why we went to fucking P.S. 408 in the middle of the night and stood around like idiots doing a ritual Min and I made up. If we _‘just forget it,’_ then what was the point in the first place?!”

“There’s a guy _in the hospital_ with part of his brain scooped, literally _SCOOPED_ out, and _you_ want me to play ‘ _name the monster_ ?!’ _”_ Rel was yelling.

“Well what the _FUCK_ are we supposed to do about _THAT_?!” Salome yelled back.

“I don’t fucking know! _SOMETHING?!_ ” Rel snapped his head to look out of the window again. “Raise money for his hospital bill or some shit, I don’t know. If that fucking monster is real, then we’re wasting time by trying to come up with a name for it like it’s a stray dog!”

“We don’t even know for sure that guy was attacked by the monster!”

“We could stop by the hospital and check,” Alistair suggested softly. He rubbed his palms on his legs again, uncomfortable with Salome and Rel’s shouting match.

What he didn’t realize was that the shouting was a _good_ thing, at least it was for her and Rel. If he had decided not to believe them, he would’ve stayed quiet the whole ride home and left with some half-assed excuse. But he was yelling, _getting involved_.

“We definitely should!” Min agreed heartily. Rel must have shot her a nasty look, but she smiled back. “We need to confirm that he was attacked by this monster, and, if he’s in any shape to _talk_ , hear what happened.”

“We really should give that thing a name,” Salome said, flicking the blinker on to turn towards the hospital.

She heard the whir and clack of the Author again. “It most likely came from Alistair’s world, and it seems too powerful to be an average spirit or demon. Maybe it already has a name, and we just need to figure out what it is?”

“Why isn’t this shit _you_ know?!” Rel snapped at the Furby. “You expect me to believe that mystical being bullshit, but you don’t know what the thing _is_?!”

Salome heard whirring again. “I tore off a part of myself to get that thing out of me. Being incomplete seems to have cut off my usually considerable powers.”

Alistair turned to look at the Furby in Min’s arms. “‘Incomplete?’ That’s what the monster said, about itself.”

Something was starting to sound familiar, pricking at the back of Salome’s shitty memory. “Say that again.”

“‘That’s what the monster said about itself?’” Alistair said. 

Salome waved his words off. “No, _Rel_ , say what you were saying again.”

Rel huffed. “I’m saying that this is all bullshit and we have more important things to focus on, like the fact that a guy is in the hospital, mostly likely with _severe_ brain damage, because of _us_ . By _association_ , but because of us.”

Salome hit the steering wheel in frustration. “ _No_ , before all of that! God _fucking_ dammit.” She felt her face get hot with anger and shame.

Rel’s voice got a tiny bit nicer. “Shitty memory strikes again, huh?”

“Shut up,” Salome mumbled back, eyes watering from anger. 

She heard Rel sigh. “I think...the first thing I said was maybe ‘forget it?’”

“And?”

He tried to go back through his shouts. Alistair and Min joined in, replaying the conversation.

They’d had to repeat it over and over again, until they arrived at the hospital. Salome parked, but kept a death grip on the steering wheel, picking out the words that had tried to spark something in her brain.

_‘Forget,’ ‘demon,’ ‘powers,’ ‘incomplete.’_

She repeated them to the group. “Those were the things I was looking for. There’s...there’s something there. Min?” She stared into Min’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Those are our keywords. Remember them for me?”

Min nodded, hugging the Author’s Furby form just a little bit tighter. “Yeah, of course. Sources?”

Salome squeezed her eyes shut. “ _World of Thedas_ and a wiki?” She kept her eyes closed as Min repeated the keywords and the sources they would use back to her. It sounded right. It’d be nice if Salome could remember it herself.

She rubbed at the side of her face and got out of the car.

* * *

They weren’t allowed to see the mystery patient. The exhausted nurse at the desk of the nurse’s station shook her head at their request and tried to shoo them away.

Salome and Rel did their best to get at least _something_ out of _someone_ in the hospital. They didn’t try to make it a habit of visiting Aunt Ruthie, casually _or_ professionally, but they were well-known enough around the hospital that most of the staff realized who they were when they introduced themselves.

Aunt Ruthie was still off-shift, so they couldn’t get to _her_. They got lucky when one of the nurses, Domnin, who worked closely with their aunt walked by the nurse’s station and stopped to chat with them.

Dom’s eyes widened when they asked about the man who was brought in.

“I think it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” he told them in a hushed voice. “Came in completely unconscious, woke up, and seems to be fine. Except for the fact that there’s an open hole in the side of his head, and it goes _into_ the brain!” Dom pointed to a spot just above his ear.

“But he’s _fine_?” Rel’s voice came out a bit too loud, and Dom motioned for him to be quiet.

“Yeah. We’ve run tests, asked a bunch of questions, he’s physically and mentally functioning as if there wasn’t a golf-ball sized chunk of his brain missing. It’s _weird_.”

“Any chance he’s just really lucky and it was taken out of an unused part of his head?” Salome asked.

Dom shook his head. “That’s not how the brain works. Yeah, some of it’s not used, but there isn’t just a hunk of it that’s all dark waiting to be scooped out like a zombie’s favorite flavor of ice cream!”

“Christ on a cracker,” Salome murmured, fingers starting to rub at the side of her face again. “Any clue where he was when he got...scooped?”

Dom opened his mouth to answer when a calm voice echoed through the intercom. Salome didn’t understand the hospital’s coded message, but Dom’s eyes somehow opened even wider.

“What is it?!” Min asked, staring at the ceiling.

“More incoming,” Dom said, and turned to charge down the ER’s hallway, other nurses joining him on the way to the ambulance entrance.

* * *

Seven people total had gotten scooped at P.S. 408.

_Seven_.

Three transient men, one transient woman, and three teens who had just been looking for some place to party in relative peace.

They were all _alive_ , unconscious but alive, and all seven of them had been scooped in different places on their heads.

Alistair’s face had gone pale, tinged with green, when he heard they were being brought in from the school. “We were just there...not even half an hour ago…Did it follow us? Are we the ones who...” His eyes became unfocused and troubled.

They had retreated to the ER waiting room to make way for the patients and to give them privacy. Salome guided Alistair to a chair, rubbing his back when he hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Min and Rel went to the shitty coffee vending machine tucked away to the side of the waiting room, using quarters Min had tucked away in a coin pouch inside of her purse.

Salome heard a clack and some whirs next to her. Min had set the Author down in the empty chair next to her.

By some miracle, they were the only ones in the ER’s waiting room. She didn’t know how long it would last, so she had to make it quick.

“We’re calling you Furb,” she said, turning to the Author, her hand still stroking Alistair’s back.

The Author whirred and clacked as it shifted its Furby body to look at her, its plastic eyes and bright yellow beak wide open. “What?”

“We’re calling you Furb. ‘The Author’ is fucking pretentious, and ‘Furby’ is boring. So you’re Furb. Congratulations.”

The Author - Furb - clacked its eyelids together. “Really?”

“Yeah. And not sure if I need to say it, but anytime someone _normal_ is around, you don’t move or talk.”

Furb’s ears slid up and down as Rel and Min finally came back with small styrofoam cups of steaming something. “I’m Furb!”

Min smiled. “Delighted to meet you, Furb the Furby, vessel of the Author!”

Rel gave it a glance but didn’t say anything, handing one of his cups to Salome. “Min picked it. Made some kind of mixture.”

“Mocha Cafe Latte with an extra shot of Espresso! The trick is to get a fourth cup,” Min said, lifting both of her cups. “Get one of each, then mix ‘em.”

“It’s not bad,” Rel said, taking a sip. His cup looked to be half-empty already.

Salome felt the warmth of the drink through the styrofoam cup, cooled off enough after being divided and mixed between cups. Her hand was still rubbing Alistair’s back. He hadn’t moved an inch since sitting down.

Rel tilted his head towards Alistair and gave Salome a look. Salome nodded back, and Min handed her second cup to Rel so she could pick up Furb.

Salome leaned close to Alistair’s ear. “Alistair?” His head turned a little towards her, listening. “Let’s get back to the house, okay?”

He nodded his head, but didn’t say a word as he stood up and walked through the ER waiting room’s door towards the parking lot.

“Is that a bad sign?” Min asked quietly as they followed him.

“Needs some time to process,” she said back, thinking of the brief bit from _Dragon Age: Origins_ just after Duncan was murdered. The game had only given a brief black screen for the travel between Flemmeth’s hut and Lothering, but she remembered the option for ‘You’ve been quiet.’ How many days had they traveled between Flemmeth’s hut and Lothering? How many of those days had been filled with the heavy silence of shock and grief?

How many of those days had he blamed himself?

Salome and Rel both knew something about those kinds of days. It seemed like Alistiar was quickly headed for that horrible thought trap.

She clicked the button on her car keys to unlock the door, but stopped Rel and Min a ways back. Alistair had walked quickly enough to be a good ten feet in front of them, already getting into the passenger seat.

“I’ve got kind of a weird request.”


	11. Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lay down your burdens and doubts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

Min and Rel both agreed: an all-group sleepover would be better than splitting up for the night. There wasn't any safety in numbers from the monster - the attack on the residents of P.S. 408 had proven that - but there _was_ comfort in numbers.

Rel convinced Alistair that they should go together, making some excuse about needing to go by the fire station and replenish his locker's supply of extra clothes. They set off in Rel’s car before going into the house. Min walked Salome and Furb in, then made Salome promise to lock the door behind her before she headed towards her own car.

Salome slid the lock into place, then turned to see Furb on the coffee table, Paprika grunting at it with his ears back until Salome distracted him with a few shakes of his full food bowl.

She sat on the floor in front of Furb. Paprika crunched noisily in the kitchen. Furb, for its part, somehow managed to make its neon fluff-and-plastic face look uncomfortable. Its ears raised and lowered slightly, and its big plastic eyes darted around the room.

“It’s exposition time, isn’t it?” Furb asked, its large plastic eyes refusing to focus on Salome.

  
She sighed and rubbed the side of her face irritatedly. “ _Really_ wish you’d stop referring to things in story terms. But, yeah, it’s time for you to answer my questions. And _no bullshitting_.”

Furb rolled its eyes, the whirr rising in pitch as it temporarily lost control of its eyeballs. It opened its beak in the most pitiful, Furby-est wail, until its eyes finally slowed down. “Ahh! I will never do that again! Such a shame, too, it’s used _so often_ in stories! Okay, ask away.”

“You were a complete asshole in Thedas. You did all that scary shit, turning my phone _and my underwear_ to fucking _goo_ , tearing me up, wanting everything to end with me getting…” She stopped on the word ‘eaten.’ It had closed its eyelids and completely lowered its ears, like it was afraid of that word, too. It pissed her off, how _it_ wanted to be scared of what _she_ had gone through. “What the fuck are you playing at by being...this?” She motioned to its fluff-covered plastic body. “And _no_ , I don’t mean you being a toy. I mean you being just slightly less of an asshole while you’ve here.”

Furb slightly raised its plastic eyelids and its ears. “I went too far, back in Thedas, especially at the end. I brought Alistair here as an apology, and he was an extra character anyway, and it made a good story from what he was doing in Thedas _and_ for here, and it worked so well!” Furb opened its eyes and its ears perked up as it spoke. Salome realized it was fucking _proud_ of itself.

“And _then_ …” She pushed back, her expression sour.

Furb lowered its eyes to the ground, its ears dipping slightly. “I...I wanted one last thing. I wanted an epilogue.” It winced, an interesting combination of shifting and ear wiggling for a Furby, as it remembered that Salome had told it to stop using story vocabulary. “I mean, I wanted a resolution?”

“ _Why?_ ” Salome stared at the Furby hard.

“I wanted to help things all wrap up, and to apologize, like I said!”

She picked Furb up and shook it, her fingers digging into the thin layer of fluff to the plastic below. “ _Why,_ you piece of _shit?! Why_ would you make me feel fucking _crazy_ and then _fuck it up_ right when I was feeling _BETTER?!_ ”

She’d shaken it harder than she meant to, its eyes rolling around loosely and it making its Furby-ish wail again. Once its eyes stopped spinning, it looked at her with its large plastic eyes. “Would you _really_ have felt less crazy if you never knew for certain that Alistair was _Alistair_?”

It sounded scared, which only pissed her off more. What right did this thing have to be _scared_ when it had done so much _shit_ to them?!

She threw the Furby as hard as she could across the room with a growl. It slammed against the wall with a hard thwack and bounced off, leaving a scuff where it had made contact, then clattered to the ground behind an overstuffed chair.

She tried to ignore how badly her eyes were watering in anger. She heard the whirrs of Furb trying to right itself. It was _right_ , she never would have stopped doubting, but that didn’t help her calm her rage.

“ _Fuck_ you,” she hissed.

The whirring stopped. “Would you have been _happier_ if I _hadn’t_ brought him to you?” Furb called from its landing spot.

Angry tears started falling from her eyes. “I would have felt _sane_.”

The silence that followed rang in her ears as more tears fell. The year between the dream and Alistair coming back into her life hadn’t been easy, but she had gone from worried about her grasp on reality to _almost_ free. She had been _so close_ to not having to worry about herself, to Rel and her father not having to worry, and then she’d (re)met Alistair and her world started cracking at the seams again. But it hadn’t _broken_ , not when she was able to convince herself that she was imagining things, like she did with the dream.

But that hadn’t actually been a dream _at all_ . And he really _was_ Alistair.

Or else she needed to go to the hospital immediately. 

But Rel wouldn’t play along with a delusion _this_ big. If something had really been wrong, if she had completely lost track of what was reality and what was fantasy, he would have taken her to the hospital himself, come Hell or high water.

No, all of this bullshit was _real_ . Fucking _bizzare_ , and completely _real_.

She sniffed and wiped away the tears with her palms before getting up to retrieve Furb. It was kind of funny that he had ended up facedown, but he looked so sad and little, lying on the ground where he had landed.

_‘He?’ Shit. Too late to go back now_ , she thought.

She picked him up and brushed him off. “Why’d you choose _me_ for your goddamn story?”

Furb’s ears pricked up hopefully at the lack of anger in her voice. “We get given protagonists at random.”

She blinked at him. “I’m sorry, ‘ _we?!’_ ”

He blinked back. “Did you think I was the only one?”

“Yes? How many of you are there?!” She wandered slowly over to the couch, cradling Furb in her hands.

“Uhhhhh…” His ears raised and lowered thoughtfully. “Billions? I think?”

Salome felt her heartbeat start to race in panic. “There’s _billions_ of Authors?! _HOW?!_ ”

Furb managed a sarcastic look, which was impressive given the Furby facial features he had to work with. “Imagine how many ‘regular’ authors there are in this world’s human population alone. Now imagine a population of semi-omnipotent, semi-immortal beings that spans all dimensions. _All_ dimensions. How many of them would be authors, do you think?”

Salome closed her eyes. “And, don’t tell me, there’s a whole organization for your ‘author’ thing?”

“Yes! It’s called the Publishing House. There are Authors, Editors, and Publishers. Publishers choose protagonists using a randomized system that I know nothing about, assign them to Authors, and Editors monitor us.”

“Why? Why, why, _why_ , _why_ , _WHY?!_ ” She almost shook him again, but stopped herself.

“Why do we do it?” Furb shrugged his ears. “It’s fun.”

“ _FUN?!_ Messing with people’s lives is _FUN?!_ ”

“Yes!” Salome stared at him, speechless. “I’m sure _you_ have some feelings about whether it’s morally right or wrong. Or is it ethically? I get those mixed up. But it’s _so much fun_ to do! And we get bored really easily.”

“I. Fucking. _Hate_. You.” Her grip tightened on him, but she forced herself to loosen it again. “What gives you the right to mess with our lives?!”

“Because we are able to.” He blinked at her.

“ _What?_ ”

“We wouldn’t be able to alter stories if we didn’t have the right to.”

She stared at him.

He started waving his ears nervously. “And that’s it. We can. So we do. For fun. Because we’re bored.”

“I can’t _fucking_ believe this.” She put him down on the coffee table, more forcefully than she meant to, then sat back, head tilted towards the ceiling. “You _fuck up_ people’s lives just because you _can,_ you want to have _fun_ , and you _don’t see anything wrong_ with it.” Her head snapped up. “What about when things go to shit, huh? When stories have bad or sad endings? When people _suffer?!_ You think you have a right to do _that_ ?!”

  
“Well, a story doesn’t need to end _happily_ for it to be _good_ . Some of the best ones are _tragedies!_ ”

“We’re _people_ , with feelings, and minds, and, and _connections_ to each other! How would you like it if someone did this kind of shit to _you?!_ ”

Furb perked up his ears. “It would be fun! It’s fun to be part of a story!”

She brought him closer to her face. “Was getting _hacked into pieces_ in the Fade ‘ _fun’_?!”

Furb’s ears waved merrily. “Yes, it was! Oh, I’ve always wanted to play a villain, and it was...it was...so _fun_!”

She pressed the heels of her hands into her closed eyes and leaned back again. “‘ _Fun_ .’ Great. Is _everything_ that happens in the world because of you fuckers?”

“Oh, no! Not at all! We have _so many_ dimensions to work in, we don’t _have_ to play with each of them all the time. There are a lot of us, but not enough to cause _all_ the history _everywhere_ in _every_ dimension. That would just be ridiculous. And free will in mortal beings is so _interesting!_ ” Salome snorted and shook her head. She heard Furb clack his beak impatiently. “Well, it _is_. So, do you want to know more about the organization?”

“No. No, I don’t.” She kept her hands over her eyes. “I’m sure it’s going to be some bullshit I’ve heard in some story somewhere before. Probably something about how you have rules and a hierarchy and shit. I don’t give a fuck. I really, _really_ don’t.”

“But, but, it’s interesting!” Furb stammered, plastic beak clacking and whirring with gusto.

“Don’t care. I don’t want to hear about it. I _just_ wanted to know why the fuck you came back.” She sat up suddenly. “ _Wait_. Are you going to tell me some fuckery about you going rogue for this shit and you need to fix it before others find out?!”

Furb whirred to look disappointed. “It’s no _fun_ if you guess right on the first try.”

“Jesus fucking Christ on a whole-grain cracker, you’re such an _asshole_!” She the click of the front door unlocking. Rel had a spare key to her place and usually let himself in. She heard the door open and close.

She glared at Furb. “I’ll give them the short version, _you_ say nothing. You don’t deserve to have fun with this, you fucking _jerk_.”

Salome looked up, ready to launch into a tirade

“Hey!” Furb shouted as loud as he could. ”I’m _also_ a _newer_ Author, that’s important! Give me a...What’s wrong?”

Salome had gone as still as stone. Plastic machinery whirred as Furb shuffled himself to look towards the door.

The whirring stopped.

Salome’s spare key, the one she kept underneath the doormat, hung from the smooth, pale finger of the figure who had walked in, the metal peace sign keychain glinting in the lamplight.

“You really should get more creative,” it said, “with where you hide your spare keys.” Its featureless lips spread in a bleach white smile.

* * *

It moved slowly towards them and gently set the key on the coffee table.

  
Its entire body was smooth, without feature, like a mannequin. Just like Alistair had described. And it was here. The monster from the fire was inside her house.

Salome wasn’t sure if it was safer to scream and run, or to stay still and hope it went away. Both were piss-poor options.

“Oh, please relax, you two,” it said, setting its hands on its hips. Its hands sunk into its hips. It lifted its hands and looked down, a disappointed sigh coming through its manic smile. Depressions in the outlines of its hands stayed pressed into its skin. It used its hands to make a patting motion, smoothing its hips back out again. It tried again, setting its hands down so lightly on its hips it might as well not have taken the stance at all. “Better...I think…” It cleared its throat and looked back at them. “Hello.”

Salome shrunk back, mouth dry and throat tight.

It tilted its head slightly, the too-wide smile still splitting its face. “Shy, or scared?” It tilted its head back quickly, and Salome heard a crack. It sighed with disappointment again, expression unchanged. It lifted a hand to lightly pat its neck. “Don’t be. I’m just here for a chat. And to see your homebase.”

It walked around the coffee table and sat on the couch. It made itself comfortable, one leg crossed over the other, one elbow propped on the arm of the couch and the other stretched across the back of it. “Isn’t it _amazing_ how many things I’ve learned? Casual language, stereotypical mannerisms...I’ve acquired quite a lot!” Its top leg began sinking into its bottom leg, and it sighed again. Salome shifted as it patted its legs back into shape. Furb started whirring to turn itself back around, the sound loud in the tense quiet of the room. She reached over and twisted him so he faced the thing, too.

“There. I guess that’s enough pleasantries, then.” The thing looked up at Salome, and relaxed back again, its arm returning to snake over the back of the couch way too close to her. Its deep black eyes darted to Furb. “So, you’re me, or the me that I was a part of before I was me. And you,” it looked at Salome thoughtfully, “are...unimportant, I think. But you might be useful.”

“What do you want?” Salome asked, her voice shakier than she wanted. The monster flexed its fingers and she flinched.

“What everyone wants. To be free.” It reached its hand forward, and Salome tried to lean back to stay out of its reach.

She couldn’t avoid its hand entirely.

Its hand came in contact with her hair. It plucked away a puff of her hair and held it up, staring at it like it was brown, curly cotton candy before dropping it onto the couch between them.

Salome shrieked and tried to get off the couch, get away from it, get out of the house and run as far as she could.

It was faster than she was.

It jumped in front of her, putting its body between her and her escape. Its arms caged her into place, one pressed into the couch on either side of her. It loomed over her, shaking its head and making a tsking noise. All the while, it kept smiling.

“I want my freedom. I’m sure that’s something you can appreciate. After all, isn’t that what _you_ want, right now?” Its voice was calm and soft. “To be free?” If Salome moved, she’d come into contact with it. Its face hovered just in front of hers. Its arms and legs were bars that kept her locked in place with their proximity. “Well?”

She nodded slightly, pressing her head into the couch’s back. It laughed loudly, only its jaw moving.

It moved back a fraction, and Salome’s breath shuddered. “See? Don’t you feel better already? A little bit more breathing room, a little bit more _freedom_ , and you feel _better_ . Total freedom...now that would be _intoxicating_.” It stared down at her, unblinking.

“Why are you here?” Her throat was tight, her voice a whisper. “Why don’t you just _leave_?!”

It leaned forward again, and she held her breath. It came closer, and she suddenly realized that she couldn’t push it away. She’d have to _touch it_ to do that, and who knows what that would do to _her_. 

Its head tilted, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It had no heat, no scent, no breath. She only knew how close it was when it brushed against her hair, to lean closer to her ear. 

“Because I need it back,” it whispered, as softly as she had.

She felt her hair move again, hopefully from it moving away from her. She cautiously opened her eyes. It still hovered too close to her face, and she pressed her head back even harder.

Its lips dropped its smile suddenly, its expression completely blank. “Something in that man is like something in me. Something familiar. I don’t like it being here and not being part of _me_. I need it back. I won’t go back, and to make sure I don’t go back, I need it. I need the piece.”

“Piece of _what?!_ ” What could _Alistair_ have that the monster would want for itself?!

It stood up suddenly and drifted away from Salome, its eyes trailing over towards the door.

A second later, there was a knock at the door.

“I remember there was nothingness,” it said softly, moving towards the door.

There was another knock. “Salome?” Rel’s voice called, muffled by the door.

“Then a piece was torn away from the nothingness,” it continued. It reached forward and slowly ran a finger along where the seam between the door and the doorframe should have been, undoing the seal it must have made before Salome noticed its presence.

The knocking changed to pounding. She heard her brother and Alistair both call out her name.

“I could see outside of the nothingness, to the somethingness, to existence.” Its finger continued to trace the doorframe, continuing to undo its seal.

The door seemed to shake with blow after blow from outside, then it stilled. Another muffled shout, and the pounding started up again, weaker this time.

“I saw something try to pass by my nothingness, and I couldn’t be nothingness anymore, I _wouldn’t_ , not ever again. I grabbed it. It made me. I’m here. And that piece of my prison of nothingness that tore away…” It pressed its finger to the lock, tapping it gently, as it had tapped its hips and legs. “That piece is in _him_ . I can _feel_ it.”

Salome jumped at a knock on her window. Rel was outside, looking at her with worry, then over to the door. He froze.

The thing turned, it’s finger resting on the lock, the door shaking from Alistair’s continued blows. It smiled, first at Salome, then at Rel. She heard Rel’s voice, less muffled through the glass, but wasn’t able to make out what he was saying. “I have to find that piece of my prison and take it,” it said, raising its other hand to its chest. “If I take the piece, I’ll be complete. I’ll be _free_ . I will own the key that could lock me back in nothingness. But I think...I think I have to take him whole.” It dug its fingers into its chest, deep and bloodless gouges forming underneath its fingers, like it was clawing out its own heart. “I just haven’t been able to find _where_ the piece would be in a body like yours.” It’s head tilted, mimicking concern while its manic smile cut across its face. “I know that’s hard to hear. But I’ll let you have fun a while longer, before I take him.” The ends of its smile dropped down in what it must have been its best approximation of a frown. “I’m sorry.”

Salome jumped as she heard glass shattering. She looked over to see Rel knocking away other shards from the window with a rock, already reaching through to feel for a handhold to pull himself inside. A second later, she heard the door burst open, and Alistair barreled in, eyes darting around.

“Do you see it?!” Rel yelled through the broken window. He’d paused his destructive entrance when he saw Alistair make it through the door.

“See what?!” He yelled back, moving forward so he could glance into the bedroom.

“ _Shit_ ,” Rel said, his voice fading as he ran away from the window and around the house.

Alistair went and glanced through the door into her nerd room. “What am I looking for?!”

Rel ran in. “It wasn’t outside,” he said, anger trying to hide his fear. “Shit. _Shit_.”

Alistair looked between Salome and Rel, taking in the fear on their faces. “No, don’t tell me…”

“It was here,” Salome choked out, throat tight and eyes watering. “It was here, and it _disappeared._ ” Then the panic finally overtook her.


	12. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief and needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Alistair~  
> (Bolded line from ShadowSparrow, it was TOO PERFECT)

" **It can disappear, now? That's hardly fair.** " Min sat on the couch, an arm around Salome's shoulder and a pout on her face. She wore a matching sweatshirt and sweatpants, with neon-orange skulls and cats with grotesquely wide eyes covering every inch of fabric.

Alistair paced towards the broken window again, looking through the still-intact upper pane out at the darkness beyond. "It disappeared from the apartment," he said, eyes raking the inky blackness. "I ran out of that room, then turned and saw nothing. I have no idea how it slowed the fire, either." He turned and paced back towards the front door, scanning the seam between the door and the doorframe. "Or how it made the fire from that one room just snuff out. There's too much we don't know about this blasted thing!"

A barely-stifled giggle escaped Min's lips. Rel, seated in an armchair to the side of the couch, glared at her. She held a hand up in surrender. "Sorry, I just didn't think anyone actually said 'blasted' outside of British television shows. Or weirdly extreme food commercials."

Salome lifted her hands to her face, pressing the heels of her palms into her closed eyes. She had gone into an understandable panic once the monster disappeared, curling up into herself and gasping for breath. Rel had stayed calm, telling Alistair to hold her tightly wound form while he fetched some kind of medicine to give her. One small white pill and twenty minutes later, she sat exhausted on the couch, arms loose but still shaking, mind somewhat fogged, but breathing easier. She had tried to apologize for her reaction, and neither of them - nor Min, when she finally arrived - would hear of it.

Salome raised her head slightly and asked, “Min, do you remember the words? And the things? We were going to look for…” She sighed and lowered her head again, her palms returning to her eyes. Rel stared at his sister with worry and sympathy. She had been frustrated enough when she wasn't sure she would remember the information she’d reasoned out in the car. With the medication’s effect, she had an even more difficult time sorting out her thoughts.

Min squeezed the arm she had around Salome’s shoulders. “Yes, I do: 'forget, demon, powers, incomplete.' And you wanted to use a wiki and _The World of Thedas_.”

Salome asked in a quiet voice, “Would you mind…?”

Min squeezed again before reaching for the books Salome had piled up on her coffee table. “I would be _delighted_ to start some researching! It’s not just my job, Salome, it’s my _passion_ , especially where the creepiest crap is concerned!” She plucked up two books, handing one to Rel and waving the other at Alistair. When he had sat on the other side of Salome and accepted the book, Min pulled Salome’s computer towards herself. “I hope you two know how to use an index. It’s time to get searching!”

Min typed away, clicking and squinting. Alistair had volume 1 of _The World of Thedas_ in his hands, flipping through page after page, looking for any of the words that Min would repeat periodically. Each of them would call out names or organizations they came across in their searches once in a while, but Salome shook her head, none of them quite what she was trying to think of. Alistair kept getting distracted, having to constantly refocus on his search. It was strange to see his world - its history, its peoples, even its animals - laid out so methodically.

He was engrossed in the history of the Grey Wardens when Min made a gasp. “Salome, what about these  Forgotten Ones?”

Salome lifted her head slightly, squinting at the coffee table. “That’s...something’s close, but it’s not it…”

Rel sat up and flipped through his book. “Wait, those are both...here!” He tapped the page in front of him. “ _Whether the ‘Forgotten Ones’ in elven lore are connected to the ‘Forbidden Ones’ in other works - I hoped to find the answers we need._ ”

Salome’s gaze raised a bit higher. “Closer...I think it could be one of those...the other ones…”

Min’s fingers pressed at the touchpad a few times. “The Forbidden Ones, easy enough. Looks like they're supposed to be demons...and there are...at least four?”

Salome shifted to look at the laptop’s screen. “What are their names?”

Min scrolled, reading aloud. “There’s three with names so far: Gaxkang, Imshael, and Xebenkeck. I wonder who comes up with these names… And there’s one without a name.”

Salome gently reached out and tapped the screen with a finger. “That one. I think it’s that one.”

“The Formless One? ” Salome nodded, then leaned back down to rest her head in her hands once again. “Great. The one there’s _no_ information on,” Min huffed. She sounded annoyed, but her eyes were sharp and focused, her hands once again flying over the computer’s keyboard and touchpad. “At least it’s _related_ to something, maybe we can figure something out based on the others…”

“We fought the one called Gaxkang,” Alistair said, shocked that he had forgotten it. He remembered, long ago, a small house in a small, dirty alley in Denerim, and the demon there who called itself a man. “It tried to convince us to let it be, it wanted to be Gaxkang 'the Unbound ,' but we couldn't leave a demon that powerful in the streets of Denerim. Taking it down nearly _killed_ us. Facing a demon that powerful that was also _enhanced_ with some of the powers of the Author… It _must_ be The Formless One.” The thought alone brought a cold sweat to the back of his neck. Yet there was a strange sense of relief, to finally have a name to put with the monster. To know the answers to where it was from and what it was: it was from Thedas, and it was one of a group of the most powerful demons anyone had ever encountered. 

Rel shut his book and set it back on the table with a light thud, the sound drawing Alistair and Min’s attention. “The Formless One that’s been given a form, huh? Demons from other worlds? I’m not saying I doubt it, not after seeing that fucking thing with my own eyes, but...I think it might be time to call it a night,” he said, nodding towards Salome.

She nodded without looking up, keeping her hands pressed into her eyes. Alistair saw that her arms were still shaking, just slightly.

Rel stood, taking a step towards Salome, but Alistair had already slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her off the couch. “I’ll help get her settled. Should we take watches?”

Rel’s shoulders lowered with relief. There was no question about whether or not to carry Salome - if her arms could barely hold up her head, there was no way her legs would support her. And although Rel was strong, as he had to be in his line of work, he was shorter and stockier than Alistair. He’d have had a more difficult time of maneuvering his sister through a doorway if he’d tried to lift her. “Yeah, watches would be a good idea,” he called after Alistair’s retreating form.

Alistair set Salome on her bed, helping her to lie down. A memory from Thedas drifted through his mind again, when he had given his bed to her when she couldn't bear to be in her own. _“Noble, well-intentioned, and kind of dumb. Like spending the night in a fucking_ chair, across the fucking room _from me_ ,” she had said to him. He smiled to himself as he pulled a blanket over her, the memory and the action comforting him.

Salome took his hand, her grip weak. “Stay with me this time?”

“Hmm, I _was_ looking forward to having a crick in my neck tomorrow, but I can’t say ‘no’ to you.” His smile remained gentle, even if his words were teasing. “Let me just check on-”

A knock on the doorframe interrupted him. “Min and I figured it out,” Rel said, peering into the room. “She’ll do first watch, I’ll take second. It’s late enough that we won’t need a third.”

“Min’s alright with first watch?” Alistair asked.

“I’m a night owl!” Min called from the living room. “And this research has me too excited to sleep! And Furb’s going to help, _right?_ ” He had almost forgotten about the damned Author trapped in the pink toy. It had remained eerily silent throughout their investigation. He thought he heard a quiet reply from an electronic voice, too soft to make out from the other room.

Rel shook his head. “And _I’m_ going to get some sleep in the nerd room.”

“Did you put back all the pictures of me?” Alistair asked, brow raised. Rel sighed and rolled his eyes. “ _No?_ I’m insulted! I thought we were _friends_.”

“ _Goodnight_ ,” Rel said, disappearing from the doorway.

Alistair turned back to Salome, about to quip about how Rel must be jealous of his portraits, but realized she had fallen asleep. He looked at the regular clothing she wore. Jeans and shoes couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in.

He went to the doorway. “Min? Could I get your opinion?” She nodded, but kept typing, eyes hidden behind the glare of the computer screen that made her glasses impenetrable. “Salome’s fallen asleep, but I can’t imagine she’s going to be comfortable sleeping in jeans…”

Min looked up at that, her eyebrows raised, glasses clear from the computer screen’s light. “Are you asking if you should undress her while she’s zonked out?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Seems like I’ve got my answer when you put it that way. I’ll at least remove her shoes, no harm in that, right?”

Min stared at him with a calculating look, tapping her fingers lightly on the keyboard as a nervous gesture instead of typing. “Promise to _only_ take off her shoes and jeans?”

“Of course, then straight under the covers. I swear it.” Min’s gaze was as sharp as daggers, but he held it steadily.

“If you think you’d be able to, _without_ waking her up,” she said slowly, “try for her bra, too.” Her eyes lowered to the computer, glasses covered with light once more. “Sleeping in an underwire _sucks_ , trust me. And keep that door open.” Min wouldn’t be able to see into the bedroom from her perch on the couch, but Alistair nodded and turned back to the room.

Salome’s eyes were half-opened and a tired smile brightened her face a little. “Such a gentleman, Alistair.”

He hoped she could see the smile, and not the embarrassed flush, in the dim light cast through the doorway. “I try my best. Would you like to get some night clothes on? Do you need help?”

She nodded, slowly sitting up. She waved at her shoes then reached behind her, fiddling with the fasteners underneath her shirt. He sat beside her and undid her laces, sliding the shoes and the socks off her feet and setting them beside the bed.

She sighed and suddenly tipped forward. Alistair started, hands reaching out to steady her by the shoulders. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”

“Fucking _bra_ …” She looked up at him. “ _Again_.”

“Ah, I see. And you would like some assistance, _again_?” He couldn’t help but raise a brow and give her a suggestive smirk.

She laughed a little, shaking her head. He moved closer to her, so she could rest her head on his shoulder and her chest against his as his hands searched out the cursed clasps. She had to direct his movements after his own struggling with the fasteners, until he finally got the damned things undone with a triumphant, “Aha!”

“My hero,” Salome said, her smile pressed into his shoulder.

“I’ll add ‘Undoer of Tricksy Fasteners’ to my long list of accomplishments,” he said, holding her shoulders to steady her back into sitting upright. She reached through the sleeves of her t-shirt to free her arms from the shoulder straps, then reached underneath to pull the whole thing off and out, letting it drop to the ground. “Last thing?” He patted her jean-clad leg gently.

She nodded but lay back, arms limp at her sides. “Could you?”

“Of course.” He undid her button and zipper, maneuvering her jeans over her rump and down her legs, tugging them free as gently as he could. He pulled the comforter from underneath her and covered her with it, placing it just at her shoulder and skimming his lips over her forehead. “Better?”

“A lot, yeah. Thank you, Alistair.”

“Anything for you, my sleepy temptress.” He glanced over to where his own bag lay, and decided against going through the entire process himself, opting instead for the quick comfort Salome sported. He slid into bed beside her, trying not to jostle and disturb her.

She remained stubbornly awake still, instead turning and tucking herself by his side. He ran his hand over her hair tenderly, feeling the uneven dips where chunks of her hair had been plucked away. His chest tightened, anger at the monster’s attack mixing with the regret that he hadn’t been here for her.

“You know,” she said softly, her voice clearing away the brackish mixture of emotions from his mind, “I’m surprised you didn’t make removing my jeans a bigger deal. You were scared shitless about it in Thedas.”

“ _That_ was during a rather romantic, _intimate_ moment. This was completely different.” She shifted her head, humming in question. “You’re so exhausted, you can barely move. What kind of man would I be if I insisted we come together when you were in this state?”

“What if I offered?” Her question was more curious than suggestive, but even if she _were_ serious, he knew his answer straightaway.

“Then I’d resist you. It’d be difficult, _very_ difficult. I’d probably have to go spend the night on the couch with Rel, and he is _very_ stingy with his snuggles. But it would be the only way, for your own good, no matter how temptingly you ask. Please don’t ask, I’d much rather stay here.”

He could feel her smile. “Goodnight,” she said with a sigh. She was asleep within a few minutes, judging from the tickle of drool on his shoulder. He didn’t mind it. He’d never mind it.

Long into the night, he kept a watch of his own instead of sleeping. Shadows flickered in his vision, creating possible figures standing in corners or next to the bed. They appeared and disappeared as easily as thought, fingers reaching forward to rearrange their bodies as easily as clay, but always disappearing before they could touch them. And always, always, the bright crescent of a bleached-white smile was there.


	13. Wiser in the Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Morning is wiser than Evening.” - _Vasilisa the Beautiful_ , Russian fairytale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

She woke up with a dull headache and dried drool in a thin, crusty line on her cheek. She looked to her side just as Alistair snored deeply, still asleep.

Shower, water, coffee, food.

Then, figure out how to stop a creature who could scoop up flesh like it was whipped cream and appear and disappear at will.

She pulled on a pair of pajama shorts and walked out to find Rel and Min arguing in the kitchen.

“That’s too much garlic!” Rel shouted, pushing her hand away from the large metal bowl in front of him.

“There’s _no such thing_ as ‘too much’ garlic!” Min whined back, trying to reach around his arm to drop in the handful of minced garlic that was piled on her palm.

Paprika stood calmly next to Rel’s foot, eyes up and tail wagging hopefully. The air smelled of bacon and coffee and garlic.

“Morning, guys,” Salome said loudly.

“Morning,” they responded in synch. They returned to arguing about garlic as Rel tried to pour the egg and etcetera mix into the cast iron pan that would go into the oven to turn into a frittata. Min managed to get a healthy pinch of garlic in the pan, smiling triumphantly at a frustrated Rel as she tipped the rest of the handful into her mouth.

Salome poured herself coffee. “Rel, it’ll be fine. Just stir and put it in the oven, I’m starved.” She lifted the mug up but stopped. “ _Shit!_ My job! _Fuck_ , I’m so late!” She turned to race back into the bedroom but Rel stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“I called them and told them about your panic attack last night. Asked them for the rest of the week off, you’re all good.”

“I can’t take that much time off again! They’ll _fire_ me!”

“No they won’t,” Rel said, shaking his head as he started washing the dishes he had dirtied making bacon and the frittata mixture. “You’re the best baker they have at that place, they’d be stupid to fire you. I asked for the rest of the week off for Alistair and I, too.”

Min picked up her own coffee mug and nodded. “Same. So, we need to take out the Formless One thing by the end of the week.”

“Great,” Salome said with a sigh. “No pressure.”

“I think I’ve got some good info, at least?” Min said with a shrug. “Comparatively. If it’s at all like the other demon-y things.”

“Okay? And?”

“And we’ve come up with a plan?”

Salome looked between Min and Rel. They both looked too uncomfortable for the plan to be a _good_ one.

“Well,” Min started, ”if we lure it back to the school, and get it to touch Furb, it should mesh back with him and not _just_ be the Formless One any more.”

“Then Furb takes all his freaky shit _back_ to wherever he got it from,” Rel said, nodding his head towards the coffee table where the pink Furby sat quietly.

The plan didn’t sound so bad to Salome, but Min and Rel both looked way too uncomfortable for that to be all. “So, how do we get it to the school?”

“Bait.” Salome turned to see Alistair standing in her bedroom doorway. “Use me as bait to lure it out.”

“No. No way.” Salome shook her head. “ _No_ , we can’t just give it exactly what it wants! That’s too dangerous! What if it hurts you? What if it fucking _absorbs_ you?!”

“Salome-”

“ _No._ ” Coffee dripped down the side of the mug as she set it down too hard.

“Salome,” he said quietly. “I told you. I won’t doom anyone else when it’s _me_ that demon wants to get its hands on. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop that thing. I swore an oath, and I will keep it.”

“You _said_ you wanted to stay,” she snapped.

He smiled at her. “That’s still true, too. So, hopefully we’ll have some sort of safety precautions involved?” He looked between Rel and Min.

“If by ‘safety precautions’ you mean ‘do it really, really fast before it can get you’ then yes, we’ve got it covered,” Min said nervously.

Salome stared at her. “That’s _it?_ Just do it _fast?!_ What the _fuck_ kind of plan is that?!”

“It’s the best we can do on short notice with no fucking idea _what_ we’re doing,” Rel said, crossing his arms and glaring at Salome.

“Well that plan fucking _sucks_ .”

“Come up with a better one, then.”

Long after the last of the frittata was eaten and the last drop of coffee was poured, Salome hadn’t come up with anything that didn’t involve luring the Formless One _somewhere_. And the only thing it seemed to want was Alistair, as far as any of them could tell.

“I hate this. I hate everything about this,” Salome groaned, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling.

“Really? You aren’t simply loving every minute that the entire world is in danger? I find it rather bracing.” Alistair’s smirk almost hid the shakiness in his voice.

“Is it really that bad for all of you?” Furb’s electronic voice was quiet, but bright. “This is what it’s like to be part of a story. It’s exciting! The uncertainty, the danger…” His plastic eyelids clacked. “You really aren’t having fun? At all?”

Min raised her hand. “I kind of am,” she admitted.

Rel chewed at his nails. “Think the fucking novelty’s worn off for us _mortals_.”

Furb sighed unhappily, too similar to an actual Furby for Salome’s comfort. There was a reason she never opened that box. She’d heard nightmare-fuel tales of people opening up a closet and having their forgotten Furby suddenly spring to life. She’d only kept it because it had made her mom happy to give it to her.

“Well, we’re not getting anything done by pouting,” Min said brightly. “Let’s talk weapons.”

“Weapons?” Rel stared at her. “Do you not remember the part where Alistair slammed a fucking sledgehammer through its stomach _and it kept going?!_ ”

Min’s eyes gleamed behind her glasses. “But what if he had aimed for its legs? That would have slowed it down, right?”

“It was solid when we saw it last night,” Salome said, rubbing the side of her face. “Even if it disappeared from the apartment where Alistair found it _before_ it put itself back together, it seems like it can re-form its body. Fan- _fucking_ -tastic.”

“It’d still probably have taken time, though,” Rel pointed out. “Which means sledgehammers could be helpful tonight.”

“Tonight?!” Salome stared at her brother. “ _Tonight?!_ ”

“Yeah, don’t you want this thing taken care of sooner, not later?”

“It’s not enough time!” Salome shouted at him.

“Enough time to _what_ , sis? Hmm?” Rel shouted back. “Not enough time to go on a quest for a magical fucking sword? Not enough time to train in some ancient kung fu shit? Not enough time to _what_?!”

Salome clenched her teeth, heat filling her head in anger, embarrassment, frustration. The emotions boiled and pulsed against her skull. Rel stood in front of her, glaring down at her, shoulders raised and fists clenched. She set her hands on the couch, her legs tensed.

It wouldn’t be the first time she tackled her brother by the knees to take him down during an argument.

Min, thankfully, poked Rel’s shoulder and cleared her throat. “Rel, you and I should go get some sledgehammers.”

Rel snapped his head towards her. “I told you that it didn’t-”

Min’s hand shot to Rel’s elbow, pinching the joint and forcing Rel to his knees. Min’s hand looked small and plump, but she must have had a grip like a bear trap to make Rel fall so suddenly. “We’re bringing Furb, too.”

“Fucking _Christ_ , fine! _Fine!_ ”

Min kept her hand on his elbow but stopped pinching, helping him up. She grabbed Furb by the fluff on the top of his head and looked at Salome. “It’ll probably take us a while,” she said with a nod. She dragged a grumbling Rel behind her as she made her way to the door.

Alistair and Salome were alone. As alone as they could be when the Formless One could appear and disappear whenever it wanted to.

The fury faded, leaving Salome cold and hollow.

“It’s not enough time to prepare for goodbye,” she said to the empty space where Rel had stood yelling at her.

Alistair’s arms surrounded her, gently drawing her back to lean against him. “At least we _both_ know it could be goodbye this time?”

Her hands folded in his. “I knew I’d end up back here, though, and you’d be alive. We don’t have a fucking clue what might happen if it takes you…”

He leaned his head against hers. “ _I_ didn’t know what was going to happen,” he said quietly. “I thought I’d lost you to the Fade, to Nightmare.” She felt him shudder, and he held her tighter. “I don’t remember what happened afterwards, but watching Halea close the Rift, with you on the other side...It broke me, Salome.”

Tears slid down her face.

“Then I saw that drawing, the one of you standing in front of Nightmare. You look so small and scared...and knowing that it…” He paused, and Salome could feel the muscles of his neck working as he tried to clear his throat. “Knowing how you...got out of the Fade...Maker help me, if I’d known that was what was going to happen I would have stopped you any way I could.”

“I’m sorry.” She choked back more tears that wanted to burst out.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Please don’t be, I don’t want you to be. I just wanted to say I know how badly it felt to lose you, even just the few moments I remember. I will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t go through what I did.”

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, closing her eyes against her tears. “I don’t want us to lose each other again. I love you so much that losing you terrifies me.”

“Then I’ll do my best to see that you’re not afraid.”

When Min returned with Rel, Furb, and armloads of bags an hour later, they were still holding each other, unprepared to let go.


	14. Writer’s note! (To be deleted)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legitimately from me, BreakerBroken, not the fictional ‘Author’

I have not forgotten about this fic or the other one I’m working on (Aftermath)! I’m attempting National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo, I’m sure many of you know) which is taking up the main focus of my creativity, energy, and time.

BUT! After November, I’ll turn my focus back to these fics! I have a few scenes already written out, and I hope to take advantage of any fic-focused creative bursts so that might mean updates?

Just in case, though, I wanted to let you know this fic is not forgotten, my focus is just being taken up by another project!

Thank you for reading, and for your patience! Hope to update soon if creativity allows!

~BreakerBroken


	15. Risen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time has come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~  
> \---  
> ~The Formless One~

Salome ran her hand over her now chin-length hair. Rel had gotten clippers while they were out, more confident in his abilities with those than with scissors. Salome had stayed still as Rel shaved off more and more of her hair, until it was even with the short clumps the Formless One had left behind. She had watched puffs of fluffy hair fall to her bathroom floor. Alistair had stopped pouring salt into plastic sandwich bags when she walked out, eyes and smile wide at her new haircut.

There was no time for compliments or chatting, though. Not when they were preparing to face down a demon.

“Sledgehammers?”

“Check.”

“Salt?”

“Check.”

“An appropriate amount of terror so we stay on our toes?”

“I guess?”

“Close enough,” Min said with a nod at Salome.

Rel hefted his sledgehammer in his hands, turning it round and round. “We’re really doing this, huh?” He shook his head. “And with fucking  _ sledgehammers _ . This is fucking insane.”

“Given our lack of access to enchanted weapons, magic, or even basic armor, it seems we’re as ready as we could be,” Alistair replied. “Really wish I had a sword, though. And a shield. But this is certainly better than having nothing at all.”

“Let’s run through the plan one more time.”

“We go to the school, Alistair in the lead. He draws it out, we surround it as fast as we can, try to incapacitate it with sledgehammers and salt, then shove Furb into it.” Min smiled. “Simple!”

“Simple,” Rel repeated with a grumble. “Simple and definitely a bad idea.”

Salome ran her hand over her hair again, fascinated by how light it felt now that the length was gone. “Who’s going to carry Furb?”

Min looked around at them. “Alistair? He’s more likely to get close to it than any of the rest of us. Sound good, Furb?”

The Furby clacked its beak and lids. “This is a terrible plan!”

“But it’s the only one we’ve got,” they chorused back. They’d each said it enough that it was almost a catchphrase at this point.

“Alright, then, let’s go!” Min practically skipped out of the house, sledgehammer in-hand and Furb tucked under her arm. Rel followed, shaking his head.

Alistair held his hand out to Salome. “Are you ready?” He laughed at the skeptical look she returned to him. “Ready-ish, at least?”

“Ready-ish.” She took his hand and buried her fear. It was time.

* * *

_ They’re coming _ . The Formless One smiled to itself. It dropped the limp form from its fingers, gently dabbing away the stains around its mouth.

Perhaps it was to be a final battle. It had learned enough about this world to know that such things were often expected when one was considered ‘evil,’ as it was.

The calm, genial villain. It enjoyed this persona, this role it had taken on in this world. Especially since its powers seemed to be the stuff of stories in this world. Making them that much more monstrous when it demonstrated them on its victims.

And it was indeed a monster here. Able to go where it pleased, when it pleased. Able to bend the world around it to please its fancy. Knowing it was the most powerful being that walked this earth, as far as its victims knew.

It just needed to consume the last piece that kept the connection open. Consume it, absorb it, control it. Then nothing could send it back. Not the being that had given it form. Not the creatures it fed on.

Not even itself.

Its smile grew. Why would it ever leave this paradise?

The Formless One stood in the place where they - his nemeses - had summoned the being that had given it form, and waited. It smiled to itself. Excitement. It was excited to face its nemeses.

A villain should have a name. ‘The Formless One’ was satisfactory, now that it knew it was its name. But it could be better.

‘Demon,’ some of its victims had called it. But, no, that was a creature, not a name.

It rolled around sounds in its minds, searching within the knowledge it had acquired.

Hraneth.

Unknown name, strung together from pieces of what its victims were called.

Hraneth the Formless One.

Hraneth waited patiently as the night deepend around it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of COURSE I'd have a (small) burst of creativity right after releasing my writer's note.


	16. Initiate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Alistair~

The journey to the oddly-placed woods was quiet and tense. Alistair remembered many other journeys like this one, albeit on horseback, in armor, with well-trained Wardens or other warriors.

He tapped his pocket again, feeling the awkward bulk of the small bag of salt on his hip. The heft of the sledgehammer was strange in his grasp. Perhaps that was because he yearned for the familiarity of the sword and shield, now that he remembered what it felt like to wield them. Or, perhaps, it was because it felt too light to face what he knew to be waiting for them.

They had forgone whatever ‘armor’ this world had available to them. The warped mask from his first encounter with the Formless One had shown all too clearly that anything they tried to use to protect their bodies would ultimately be useless.

As unprepared as he felt, he was even more concerned for the others. With any luck, he could draw the Formless One to him. He had the training and the experience, both in battle and against demons (albeit possibly weaker ones than this). They had none. Even Salome, who might remember the skills and techniques she learned while in Thedas, was physically untrained in this world, and had what amounted to a maul instead of the enchanted daggers she had been used to.

They stood at the edge of the wild woods that lead to the school’s ruins. He strained to hear the sounds of frogs, of crickets, of night birds, but there was only silence.

“It’s here, then.” His voice seemed much too loud in the absence of sound.

They crept through the trees, snapping twigs and rustling leaves setting them all even more on edge. The soft, distant sound of crackling, like a slow lightning strike, began to grow as the school ruins appeared to them. A sound Alistair remembered well. He caught Salome’s gaze, her face going even more ashen.

“A Rift,” she whispered.

“A large one, it seems,” he whispered back, nodding his head towards the glow of green light that emanated from the center of the ruins. “At least as big as the one at Adamant.”

“That light wasn’t there last time. What’s changed?” Rel asked from Alistair’s other side.

“Why the fuck would _we_ know?” Salome hissed back.

“For the story?” They looked at Min, who had Furb tucked underneath her arm. “The villain declared itself, the heroes go after it, a Final Countdown to The End?”

Furb whirred and hummed an agreement. “It _does_ have some of my powers! It’s possible!”

Salome cursed sharply. “Should we still go in?” She looked to him for the decision. He was the bait, after all. He was the one the Formless One wanted.

He nodded once, tightened his grip on his weapon, and lead them into the school. They picked their way over rotting floorboards and around debris, aided by the ever-brighter green glow from the Fade Rift that crackled in the center of the ruins.

They carefully walked through the entrance into the gymnasium where they had performed the vessel ritual for Furb. The piles of rubble and debris were just as they had been, the holes in the wooden floor just as treacherous. It was all cast in the light of the Fade Rift that twisted and floated through the air. A raised area of the gym's floor created a stage. The Formless One stood in its center, the threads of the Rift winding around it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The Formless One called out, waving its hand through the wisps of impossible light.

Alistair took a few steps forward, making sure the Formless One's gaze was on him. "The one at Adamant was much more impressive," he yelled over the static crackles.

The Formless One laughed, the smooth lines of its face shifting to form an expression of pure joy. Alistair's grip loosened slightly in disquiet. The Formless One hadn't been quite so _human_ the last time they had seen it.

"Oh, my Missing Piece, the Key to my Prison, Alistair Theirin," it said in delight. "I cannot wait to absorb you and become, finally, complete." It looked at the others one by one, watching them creep further into the gymnasium. "And having an audience should be very entertaining as well."

A step signaled that Salome was just behind him. Rel and Min would still be standing in the doorway, only entering to strike if the opportunity presented itself. "Well, we're all here. I assume this is what you wanted, Formless One?"

"Hraneth."

"What the hell did you just say? Some weird fucking spell? Huh?!" Rel yelled out to the demon, his fear masked as anger.

The demon shook its head, its smile now condescending. "No, you simple thing. It is my name. I desired a name, and I took one. I hope to hear one of you insignificant characters say my name bef-"

Its mouth moved as if it were still speaking, but Alistair couldn't hear the rest of its words. The Fade Rift had grown brighter in intensity, starting to pulse with light, the static sound growing too loud for anything else to be heard as the Rift pulsed faster. The green wisps of light began to race through the air. The Formless One - Hraneth - frowned, glancing at the Rift around it, and snapped its fingers. The sound of static cut off completely, but The Fade Rift continued to race, pulsing steadily with light.

It voice came to them suddenly. "As I was saying. Hraneth is the name I have taken. But you've come here for a battle, not to listen. Still, I hope to hear one of you say my name." Its smile turned feral. "Before I repurpose each of you." Its eyes focused on Rel. "Perhaps I'll remake you into a companion creature. There's more than enough of you to mold into a truly impressive beast."

Hraneth the Formless One stepped forward, dropping off the gym's makeshift stage as easily as someone else would walk down a single stair."Your presence delights me. Truly." It opened its arms wide. "Welcome to your remaking. Let us begin."


	17. Battleground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prove your worth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

It was one of those moments that only seemed to happen in stories. The thing that called itself Hraneth's last word fell heavy on the rotting floorboards of the old gym. The Fade Rift centered on the sagging stage started humming and crackling with energy, it's wisps soaring out again in the frenzy like a flock of startled birds. All four of them began to move, Alistair running straight towards Hraneth with Rel close behind. Salome and Min dashed to either side of the gym, finding piles of crumbling cinderblocks and rotten wood beams to duck behind.

The plan was simple. It would work.

Draw it out. Surround it. Salt and sledgehammer it to near-death. Slam Furb into it and fucking _pray_.

It would work. They would _make_ it work.

Hraneth leapt up to the top of a pile of mostly old school desks, arms still open to them, staring at Alistair as he made his way towards him. It was too busy watching Alistair like a snake about to strike a mouse to notice Rel flanking him. Rel swung his sledgehammer at Hraneth's knee with the force and precision of a professional baseball player.

And missed.

One twist of its leg and Rel's sledgehammer whistled through empty air, pulling Rel off balance and sending him stumbling to the side. Hraneth's eyes stayed on Alistair, bright with excitement as he swung seconds after Rel's miss. Another slight tilt of its body and Alistair's first swing missed the waxy white flesh.

Alistair adjusted his grip and swung the reverse, catching a hunk of Hraneth's thigh. Pieces of inky meat splattered onto the wreckage of the gym. Rivers of dark blood ran down its leg, standing out against its skin.

It laughed. "Good! Very g-"

Alistair's sledgehammer arched over his head, smashing down into Hraneth's hip. It screamed, and Salome could almost feel its bones shatter. She looked across the gym, trying to see Min. The other woman was hidden from her view. Salome hoped that meant she was getting into position. She steadied herself with a quick breath. She could do this.

She'd fought Shrieks. She'd faced Nightmare. She'd been in fights with all sorts of creatures in Thedas, ones that she had thought later were dreams but her muscles remembered. She slunk quickly along the edge of the gym, moving carefully and quietly towards the stage, avoiding a sizeable hole in the floor. She needed to get onto the stage, get to a higher point than the demon, then get her salt ready.

Another scream, but not from Hraneth.

From Rel.

She froze, all the muscles in her body tight with fear. Skirting the edge of the hole, her back pressed against the soft boards that rose up to create the stage, Salome looked back at the center of the gym and saw Hraneth's white fingers sinking into Rel's wrist. Rel's skin seeped up as its fingers closed in, pushing through his flesh and bone like clay. Rel tried to pull away, but his scream pitched higher as his own struggling worsened his wounds. Salome's hand scrambled for a rock, a hunk of wood, something she could throw and get its attention, get it to let go of her brother.

It hissed suddenly, pushing Rel away from it and arching its back, clawing away its own skin in dark slashes.

"Your fight is with me, _monster_ ," Alistair yelled, shaking grains of salt off of his hand before gripping his sledgehammer again.

"Can't you have a bit of _patience_?" Hraneth sneered back, twisting to glare at him as it stripped off its salted skin. From what little Salome could see, the salt seemed to cause Hraneth's skin to shrivel and dissolve.

Rel, shaking, tried to raise his sledgehammer to attack Hraneth, but he winced and groaned. His wrist, pinched and twisted, wouldn't let him hold the sledgehammer with both hands. The pain of trying to raise it sent Rel stumbling back, trying to catch his breath.

Hraneth turned to smirk at Rel's weakness, then crouched low and threw itself sideways, another downward swing from Alistair barely missing it.

"I said your fight is with _me_!" Alistair yelled, swinging again. His second swing flattened a piece of Hraneth's stomach onto the gym floor, and a quick upward pull sent black viscera and white bone fragments into the air.

Salome ran forward, skirting the massive opening underneath the gym floor, and raised her own sledgehammer above her head, aiming for Hraneth's neck. She swung down, hitting nothing but rotten wood. Hraneth had twisted out of the way, then flipped over and lunged for her. She saw its fingers, wax-white covered in smudges of its own sludgy blood, inches in front of her face before she could even register what was happening. She wheeled back, swinging the sledgehammer back up and screaming. Hraneth retracted its fingers in time to avoid her strike, but smiled at her gently, as if saying, _Better luck next time_.

It was hurt, bleeding and missing hunks of its body, and it was _smiling_.

Alistair's sledgehammer clipped its heel, causing its leg to buckle and forcing it to one knee. "I won't tell you again, demon! Your fight is with _me_!"

Even as Alistair raised his weapon, Hraneth chuckled. "Afraid I'd mar your beloved's face, Alistair?" It rolled to the side, dodging his strike swiftly but clumsily. Alistair caught one of its shoulders, more bone and flesh smashed into the gym's floor. It rolled again, scrambling back on its palms and what was left of its heels.

Hraneth grinned. "Would you still love her, I wonder, if she had no face?" It struggled to try to stand upright, breathing heavily, smiling serenely. "If she had no eyes, no mouth, no ears, would you still love her?"

Hraneth turned its back on him, looking at Salome. "Should we find out?"

Alistair roared and swung his sledgehammer, striking through Hraneth's back then his calf, more viscera and bone splattering around them. Hraneth jerked with each strike, but no longer screamed. He no longer labored for breath.

Hraneth had been playing with them.

He took a slight step forward, Alistair next swing missing the back of its skull by a hair's breadth, and Salome edged backward, only remembering the hole in the floor after she was already falling through it.

She landed on the concrete foundation of the building with a painful smack, gasping and coughing. She heard the crackling of the Fade Rift, the grunts and yells of fighting above her, the creak of old and untrustworthy wooden planks around her. Min hovered near her, Furb clutched in her plump arms.

"Crap, Salome, are you okay?!" She whispered, reaching out a hand to help her stand. Min was crouched over, the floor of the gymnasium too low to let her stand comfortable. Salome nodded, accepting Min's hand and carefully standing up as best as she could. She stared at the opening a few inches above her. Her eyes met Hraneth's.

She shrunk back, crouching back down to drag her sledgehammer towards herself and gripping its haft so hard it creaked. She heard footsteps, loud ones where Hraneth and Alistair had been standing before she fell, and quieter ones above them. She jolted when Min's hand touched her arm.

"Salome, breathe, okay? Breathe, in and out, slowly."

Salome took shaky breaths, trying to drive out the memory of Hraneth's amused look as he spied her through the opening in the floor.

"Salome, it's okay to be scared," Min said quietly.

Salome stared at the ruins above her, watching the wisps of Fade energy buzz around frantically, and heard Hraneth laugh. "No it fucking _isn't_ , Min. Not when that thing is just toying with us."

Min looked up to the hole. "It is?!"

Rel's head appeared above them, sending Salome skittering back out of range until she realized it was her brother. "Guys, we need to hurry up!" His forehead glistened in the green light, slick with sweat from exertion and pain. His face was strained with panic. "It can fucking heal itself!"

" _Fuck_!" Salome said angrily. She should have known. Of course it was able to heal itself. Why wouldn't it be?

A scream of pain made Rel's attention snap back up. " _Shit_!" He darted away from the opening. Salome could hear his footsteps skirt the hole and head for where Hraneth and Alistair's footsteps had been. Salome held her breath, then let it out when she heard another hiss of pain.

"At least the salt's doing _something_ ," Min whispered.

Salome looked into the undulating green air above them. "Min, the Rift...it's getting bigger, isn't it?"

Min nodded.

"Great." Salome tossed her sledgehammer out of the hole, then turned to Min. "Give me a boost up, I need to get back up there and help them."

Min set Furb down and laced her hands together, letting Salome step into her hands and boosting her up to clear the edges of the opening above them.

Salome crouched down, hands grasping the sledgehammer. She just barely heard Min whisper, "Be careful."

" _Shit! Holy fucking shit!_ " Rel's yells were pitched high, panic stretching the limits of his vocal chords.

Salome looked at her brother, then followed his gaze to Hraneth and Alistair.

Hraneth stood at the top of a pile of rubble, hands sunk deep into the flesh of Alistair's chest and stomach. Alistair writhed, trying to push himself off of Hraneth's hands even as the monster lifted him off his feet. 

Hraneth's skin rippled in waves, its muscles twisting and wriggling as it began to peel apart into thin strips. Strips lifted off of its arms, wax-white and ink-black, and sunk themselves into Alistair's body. More strips unwound themselves from Hraneth's legs and torso, and attached to Alistair, wrapping around him, restraining him, burrowing under his skin and into his muscle, pulling him closer.

Salome dropped her sledgehammer, hands tearing at her pocket for the salt

Hraneth pulled Alistair closer and closer, and his smile grew wider and wider. A seam appeared along the center of his lips, swinging his teeth and jaws outward like arms opening to offer an embrace. The seam continued to split Hraneth as more strips unwound around him and attached themselves to Alistair, sinking deeper into his flesh and drawing him closer and closer. Hraneth's throat split open wide, revealing stringy vocal chords before they, too, split. His torso split open, the ribs cracking loudly. The seam ran up its face, over its forehead, and they, too, split apart, revealing muscle and bone and sinew and things Salome wished would stay hidden.

" _Are you glad we will be complete, my Missing Piece?_ " Hraneth's voice was a whisper in the center of her mind, gentle and teasing. Its misshapen body was unfurled, fully open, dark blood oozing along it like sap. Alistair's body, restrained by strips of Hraneth's body, was inches from the weeping flesh.

Alistair grunted something that Salome couldn't hear.

" _Pity_ ," Hraneth's voice echoed in amusement.

It pressed Alistair into the meat and bone with the eager passion of a long-awaited first kiss, then snapped shut around him.


	18. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It runs deep and lingers long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

Alistair's body jerked and writhed as the threads of Hraneth wove into him, then heaved over the other side of the rubble.

"No!" Salome shouted through the crackling air. The Fade Rift seemed to brighten at the noise.

Rel moved before Salome did. She was frozen, eyes focused on the space Alistair had been before the mass of warring flesh disappeared from her view.

The whine of the magical static drilled through Salome's skull.

Rel scrambled forward, mangled wrist held against his chest, but skidded to a stop as one hand, then another, clawed at the top of the loose rubble. Alistair scrambled over the broken stone and dust. Fear and blood streaked his face, and his movements were wild and panicked, prey fleeing for its life.

" _Go!_ " He pulled himself over the ruins and ran forward, stumbling on hunks of cinderblock and clumsily skirting another massive opening in the gym's floor.

Rel turned, relief flashing over his face, and started towards the entrance to the dilapidated gym's ruins. "Let's go, sis!"

The muscles in Salome's legs tightened, encouraging her to stand up and run, back to the woods, to the car, to her bed, while everyone was still alive. The buzzing of the Rift intensified, her teeth hurting down to their roots with the noise.

She nodded, then turned back to the hole, hand reaching out to help Min up. "C'mon, Min!"

But no one was there. She craned her head down, trying to see as far as the flashing darkness would let her.

Footsteps made their way towards her until their owner slammed into the ground near her. She felt the soft floorboards wobble, and gripped the edges of the hole she had been peering into, mildew and mold and splinters covering her hands and preventing her from falling back onto the concrete below.

Alistair had stumbled on his way to her. He got his feet under him and looked into her eyes. "There's no time, I don't know how long that thing'll be out!"

Salome looked at Alistair, then glanced to the hole. "But Min -!"

"Salome, we have to go!" He stood and waited for her, looking down at her, then between the Rift and the entrance to the gym. Dirt and dust and blood covered his raw, torn hands. He leaned to one side, and held his hand to his ribs.

"Not without Min and Furb!" She looked up at him, determination making her clench her aching teeth. She turned back to the hole in the floor, and called out for Min again. She heard Alistair begin to run for the doors again.

Then she heard him stop. She looked up, ready to tell him again that they couldn't leave without the last two members of their foolish attempt to save their world. But Alistair wasn't looking back at Salome, but forward.

Min was standing in front of the ruined entrance to the gym, Furb pressed firmly against her chest.

Salome sighed in relief. Rel had doubled back to help her up, pulling her up with his one unharmed hand. His ruined wrist stayed pressed to his chest as tightly as Min held Furb to hers.

"Thank god, let's get the fuck out of here!" Salome ran forward, ready to leave the Rift, the Formless One, and this night behind her.

Min didn't move.

Salome and Rel slowed, coming to stand behind Alistair. Salome couldn't see Alistair's face, but Min's was clear in the vacillating light of the Rift.

She was calm. Relaxed. Furb rested in her arms, eyes and ears eerily still.

"Uh, Min? You wanna lead the way out of this shithole?" Rel called out, pain and confusion shaking his voice.

Min's face remained placid and unmoving. "You're not going anywhere."

Salome looked at Rel. "What the fuck's going on?" He shook his head, just as confused as she was.

Salome looked hard at Min. Something in her face told her that they wouldn't get past the librarian, not without a fight. "Maybe we should...find another way out..." She said it quietly, slowly moving up to stand just behind Alistair's shoulder, her hand reaching out to get his attention.

" _Don't touch him, Salome_." Min's cold voice froze Salome's fingers inches from Alistair's shoulder.

Salome paused. "Min, wh- ?"

"Back away, _slowly._ "

Salome pulled her hand back, but stayed just behind his shoulder.

Min turned her head slightly. " _Rel_."

A command? A plea?

Salome felt her brother's arm hook her waist and pull her backwards, clean off her feet. Her hands went to his arm as she stumbled to keep upright. "What the hell?! Rel?! _Min_ _?!_ "

She tried to pull herself free from Rel's grip, but he squeezed tighter. "Stop, Salome, just wait." His voice was quiet, edged. His eyes were locked on the people in front of him. "Something's wrong."

The crackling and static of the Rift thrummed and pulsed in the air around them. Rubble that had been used to being left in peace shifted as the remnants of their action left it.

"Let me go, Rel!" Salome struggled to be free from her brother's arm, but even injured Rel was able to keep his grip around her, calling up the kind of strength that bursts forward from deep, primal instinct.

"Sis, _look_." Her brother's voice was low and quiet.

Min was still calm. As Salome stared at her, she realized Min's eyes weren't focusing on her, or Rel, or the Fade Rift.

They were only on Alistair.

Alistair was covered in dirt, in blood both red and inky, in cuts and sweat and fear. He held his hand to his ribs, favoring one foot over the other. He was hunched, hurt but cautious. His voice trembled with exhaustion and bitter amusement. "You're the one that's here to hurt us, aren't you, Min?"

Salome stopped breathing, staring at the woman blocking their exit. She stopped struggling against Rel.

Min? Was Min working with the Formless One, with Hraneth?

Alistair straightened, still leaning away from his hurt ribs onto his good foot, voice calling towards her defiantly. "Or would it be better to say you're here to hurt _me_?"

"No," Salome whispered.

The wind carried a chill and the scent of sweet decay between them, rustling hair and torn clothing and loose dirt and dust. Wisps from the Rift floated through the wind, pulsing and humming in their silence.

Min had easily accepted the information Salome had given her. She'd hidden it behind a concern about her mental state, sure, but otherwise hadn't even _tried_ to disprove or dissuade them from the existence of other dimensions. Or demons. Or Authors.

She hadn't even known Min for more than a few days. The woman had spent the night in her house. Had poured over information and compared notes with her. Had shared a meal with her.

Had _hugged_ her.

Now she was stopping them from leaving while they could, while Hraneth was... Was...

"Where the fuck is the demon?" Salome's soft voice shook and her skin crawled with goosebumps.

Rel's arm tightened around her. "Don't know," he whispered back.

" _You_ know where Hraneth is." Min's voice made Salome flinch. But Min hadn't said it to _her_.

She'd said it to Alistair.

"Is Hraneth right in front of us?" Alistair called out to her, one arm raised, a gesture to her, an invitation for her to answer.

Min tensed, but stayed rooted in front of the doors.

"Min!" Salome called out. "Just let us go! _Please!_ "

Min shook her head once, a slight tilt that screamed refusal.

"Are you working with Hraneth?!" Salome's voice cracked.

"No," Min called back immediately. Salome stared at her once-friend's face, its usual smile nowhere in sight. Min's eyes never wavered from Alistair's face. "I'm making sure it doesn't leave _with_ us."

Salome stared. Alistair shook his head. "Don't try to trick us! You have to be working with it, why else stand between us and our escape?"

"Think about it, Salome! Rel!" Min's voice rose, just slightly, a wisp of something like desperation or hope. "If you think I'm working _with_ Hraneth, if I'm stalling so it can attack you, then where _is_ it?"

Salome blinked, then twisted to look behind her, Rel finally letting go of her waist. She had been so confused she hadn't realized that the demon should probably have been up and attacking them by now. Hraneth was powerful enough, durable enough, and could fucking _heal_ _itself_. It shouldn't have been knocked out this long, not with how little their attacks on it did.

She turned back around to see Rel fling out the salt from the plastic bag in his pocket towards Alistair. Most of the salt missed.

But what little of the salt that did hit Alistair made his skin blister and sizzle, and he screamed.


	19. Deceiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who's responsible: the trickster, or the tricked?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

The figure that looked like Alistair frantically wiped salt away from the back of its neck. Red, blistering skin came away with the salt, revealing a waxy white layer just underneath. It groaned and stared down at its hand.

" _Damn_ you!" It huffed, shaking the ruined skin off of its hand in annoyance. It turned, its hands on its hips, looking at Salome and Rel. "Alright, which one of you threw that and ruined everything?" It smirked, just like Alistair would have. "Let me guess... _Rel_?"

Rel tightened his arm around Salome. He stood straight, and Salome hoped the thing that looked like Alistair couldn't tell that Rel's steel spine was shaking as if it was made of tinsel.

It laughed. "Of course it was. Oh, Rel, Rel, Rel, Rel, _Rel_. What should I do with you?" It glanced over its shoulder. "And what should I do with _you_ , Min? Both of you are standing in my way. Honestly, it kind of hurts my feelings."

"Why don't you give this cute little Furby a hug, huh? Maybe you'll feel better." Min yelled from the doorway, holding Furb out.

It turned halfway towards Min, shaking Alistair's head. Salome could see the indent where the waxy underlayer had been exposed, nauseous at how the raw skin twisted with its movement.

"Now, now, Min." It tapped the temple of Alistair's head. "Fortunately for me, and _unfortunately_ for you, I'm fully aware of the plan. A wonderful perk of being..." It took a full, deep breath, stretching its arms out to the world.

"Complete?" Salome's voice was soft, but it looked over at her and smiled.

" _Exactly_." In the flashes of bright green, it looked like him. His smile, his eyes. Then the light would show the cold they held, and there was nothing of Alistair in that ice. "So, does this mean I'm _not_ walking out of here with all of you back to Salome's cozy little house? Maybe for some more of those shortbread-and-jam cookies?"

"No _fucking way_ , you sick _fuck_!" Rel yelled back.

It raised an eyebrow. "So you're going to leave me, your good friend -" it glanced at Salome "-and _lover_ , in these ruins?"

It reached back suddenly, grabbing Min before she had gotten close enough to touch Furb to him. Min shrieked as her wrist was crushed like putty. Furb fell and bounced, his own little electronic wails fading away as he fell into one of the gaping holes and rolled out of sight. It laughed and let Min go, watching her stumble backwards and fall below the floorboards after Furb.

"Guess that's still the same!" It laughed again, wiggling fingers that didn't belong to it. "Lucky me."

"Salome." Rel whispered, keeping his eyes forward. "I'll distract him, you run."

"You're still thinking of abandoning your good pal Alistair, Rel?" The thing shook its head and sighed. "Guess I'll have to do something about that."

Rel pulled Salome backward and snatched up an abandoned sledgehammer with his good hand. She stumbled, getting her footing before falling in another opening through the gym's decaying floor.

By the time she looked back up, the thing that looked like Alistair had its hands on Rel. She screamed as it crushed Rel's ribcage in and tossed him into a pile of rubble. He landed hard, twitching and gasping.

“He has so many memories of you, you know."

It was in front of her. Still fast. Still unpredictable. Still dangerous.

"So many feelings. Ones that _I_ get to enjoy, too. Really, you could say that _we_ enjoy them."

It came closer to her, inches away. His body, his scent, his presence, corrupted, vile. "You gave him your bright smiles. Your loving words. Your soft body.” It placed a hand on her face, fingers lightly touching her jaw, thumb pressing slightly into her chin. Each point of contact burned like dry ice. Its fingerprints would stay pressed into her skin long after it removed its hand. “So wonderful. You love him _so much_. Yet you hate me. What does that make you feel about _us_?"

“Give him back ,” she hissed, trying to stand still so its touch didn’t fuck her up more.

“He _is_ us now, Salome. A new creation, a new _me_ , but so much remains. The memories. The feelings.” Its voice was sweet and cold. Unfeeling ice shone through his eyes as it looked down at her. “ _I_ love you, Salome. You fell in love with a piece of me _twice_. Will you fall in love with _me_ , as I am now?”

She tensed, honeyed words from a letter he had written in another world turning to ash on her tongue. Its other arm moved to hover behind her back, trapping her.

"Do you know how wonderful it feels to be complete, Salome? How _fulfilling_ it is?" It leaned closer to her. "Would you like to feel complete too, Salome? Would you like to _join me_ , like Alistair did?"

“Why the _fuck_ would I do that?” She was too scared to be bothered by the panic in her voice.

It smiled down at her. “Just imagine it, Salome,” it said, low and rumbling, trying to use his voice to entice her. “There, on the outside, you could never hear what he heard, think what he thought, _feel_ what _he_ felt. Even in the closest proximity of limbs and skin and hearts, you were still apart from him."

It gently brushed a finger along her jaw, drawing a permanently indented line in the bone. She felt fingers on her back pressing in, leaving warning marks.

"Join with me, this new me. Become a part of me, and you become a part of him, and he of you. You would be closer to your lover than you could ever be from the outside. No more abandonment, no more separation. Truly _together_ , truly _complete_." It bent forward, whispering in her ear like it had when it cornered her in her home. A stinging pain ran over the edge of her ear, where its lips warped her skin. "All you need to do is say _yes_.”

It pulled away, staring down into her eyes. “Will you say yes, Salome?”

The way it said her name, with his voice, through his lips, made her skin crawl and her throat close up in disgust.

Then she felt the soft touch of fake fur brush against her fingertips, and she clamped her hand around it, feeling the plastic just underneath. She stared up at the cold eyes, her other hand moving towards her pocket.

“ _No_.”

She pulled the bag of salt from her pocket and pressed it into its stomach, clenching her jaw against the pain that seared her palm and shot up her arm. It screamed and staggered back, ripping its hands away from her to dig into its stomach and remove the bag of salt she had buried inside of it. It opened its mouth to scream something at her, but it never got the chance.

She pulled the lump of pink fur and plastic from behind her back. Someone had placed it in her hand while she had its attention. It lunged, making a grab for it. She twisted, its grasp just short, its momentum carrying it into the Furby as she drove it deep into the hole the salt left in its stomach.

The magic of the Fade Rift crackled through the clammy night air.

It fell facedown at her feet, limp and silent. Salome watched as the waxy white, still visible through the missing skin on the back of its neck, broke apart into threads. They writhed and twitched. They would disappear. They had to disappear. They'd shrivel away and Alistair would be okay and they would go home.

The threads slithered out of the skin and wrapped over his body. Twining around and around until the only thing visible was the waxy white threads surrounding him like a shroud.

Salome dropped to a knee and reached for the threads. She tried again to push through the unending sting of the waxy skin. Pieces of her fingers came away, shorn off by the threads as if she were clay. Deep lines that would never heal. She couldn't free him.

The floorboards creaked, and she felt a weak hand on her shoulder.

"We have to get him out of there," Salome whispered.

"Rel needs help," Min said quietly.

"We can't let it win, Min. We can't...we can't let that Formless Fucker, Hra-mother _fucking_ -neth, that fucking _monster_ , have him!" Her voice cut through the Fade Rift's static. "We have to get him out of there!"

Min squeezed her shoulder. "Salome, Rel's going to die if we don't get him help _now_. Alistair..."

Alistair was trapped, at best.

At worst, he was nothing but smashed bone and viscera in the cutting cocoon.

Bile splashed up Salome's throat. She spat it out, but the burning lingered.

She turned from whatever remained of Alistair.

They had to help Rel. Rel was the only one they _could_ help.

* * *

The hospital had never seen anything like it. Rel's ribs had been bent, not broken. Two nurses standing across the road from the hospital's non-smoking campus took deep drags through old cigarettes that they had both given up long ago, whispering that the ribs looked like they had been carefully cultivated and grown to pierce his lungs and stomach.

A doctor hid himself in a supply closet after examining one woman's crushed wrist. "There's nothing to set," he murmured, too loudly for his liking. "There's nothing to set, nothing's broken, why, why does it look like that, what the fuck, _what the fuck_ , how the fuck are we supposed to fix it when nothing's broken?" He swiped at the sweat rolling down his skin, trying to calm himself with logical ideas, like sending for a prosthetic specialist who could possibly create new bones for her.

Salome's aunt hovered near her bedside, banished from the operating room where her nephew was, her back to the stranger that had come in helping Salome carry the tangled wreck of Rel from the car.

Dr. Ruth Summers reached forward to stroke Salome's short hair - she'd gotten it cut since the last time they'd seen each other, shorter than she'd ever worn it - but pulled away.

"What have you gotten yourselves into?" Aunt Ruthie's voice was quiet, so she wouldn't wake the two patients. She didn't know that she could stomach whatever the answer was.

* * *

Left alone in the light of the Fade Rift, the cocoon writhed.

The threads rippled, then twitched, then jerked and heaved.

Slowly, each thread changed, inky black flowing along each white strand, the dark ends peeling up and away from the cocoon. The strands tangled and snapped, pulling against one another, the dark strands pulling away the white strands, fraying until they lay in a circle around the unmoving contents the cocoon had surrounded.

The Fade Rift glowed in waves.

With each wave, the dark threads gathered each white thread, twisting around it, holding it tightly, rolling together into a single mass of dark, waving threads holding onto waxy white lumps.

_This was not how it was supposed to be,_ the mass of dark tendrils said.

The wax-white lumps undulated, stretching, testing.

The tendrils viciously ripped the wax-white lumps into small pearls, wrapping them up completely.

The mass of tendrils looked down at the contents of the cocoon.

_I'm sorry_.

The Fade Rift pulsed angrily, faster and faster, tired of waiting.

The Author, no longer bound by the plastic pink toy, pulled itself along the debris until it balanced at the edge of the stage. A tendril lifted gently in the direction of the abandoned contents. A swaying wave, slow and serene.

And with a final pull, it disappeared into the virulent green light, closing the Fade Rift behind it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for not updating sooner, and thank you for being patient with me, if you're still reading this!


	20. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's beauty in the breakdown." - Frou Frou, "Let Go"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Salome~

Salome was discharged the next day. There wasn't much wrong with her - a few scrapes, a few odd dimples added to her skin and bone, some missing pieces of her fingers that looked long-healed. Nothing that would be worth the fortune it would take to fix it.

She drove home in a daze, stopping in only for a set of clothes and to leash Paprika after he'd eaten his breakfast. She brought him with her to the hospital.

Rel made it through his first surgery. They'd had to cut away bone to free his lungs and stomach. He was lucky a bone didn't pierce his heart, they said.

'Making it through' looked like intubation and sedation.

Their father was called, and he arrived at the hospital like a tornado, dropping suddenly as his sister-in-law Dr. Ruth Summers told him what injuries his children had suffered.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said to Salome, who stood limply in his tight hug. "Gavriel...Salome, what happened to Gavriel?"

Salome just shook her head. Her father tried to get a name, a reason, something. But what could she explain to her father that wouldn't get her put back in a hospital bed? Even if Min were awake to back up her story, it would sound like shared delusion.

They agreed to pay whatever they had to for Rel's future surgeries. He'd need at least three more before he could be discharged from the hospital.

Hopefully he'd be able to wake up between at least one of them.

When Min finally awoke, the prosthetic orthopedic specialist spoke to her about new bones, custom made for her, and left her with a pile of papers explaining the procedure - and its exorbitant cost.

Salome had a brief moment alone with Min.

"Rel's gonna need a bunch of surgeries," she told Min.

"And...?" Min's prompt was delivered gently, meant firmly.

"No word on...him..." She'd kept an ear out for a strange cocoon to be brought in, although maybe that would be the purview of Animal Control instead. No such thing was brought to the hospital, and she heard nothing about it.

"What do you think happened to Hraneth? And to Furb?"

Salome shrugged her shoulders. She knew she should have felt more scared than she did, but she was so goddamn _tired_. "Haven't heard anything about them, either."

She called down to the fire station and explained that Rel wouldn't be in for a long time. She asked them to go to the school to look for Alistair, making up an excuse about him possibly falling through the floor and hitting his head on the concrete foundation.

When they finally called her back, they told her they hadn't found a thing. _Not even a weird cocoon_ , she noted.

Four and a half days. Three trips back to her house for clothes and food for Paprika. The nurses and doctors knew better than to question why the fat chihuahua was with her.

At the end of the fifth day, Salome finally called her counselor.

She went in-person the next day.

* * *

A year.

A year of watching her brother go through painful surgery after painful surgery.

A year of learning how to work with her wrecked hands.

Of learning how to stop looking for cracks in the ceiling and waxy fingers reaching from around corners.

Of night terrors where something with white, waxy skin loomed next to her while she slept, smiling, always smiling.

Of not knowing whether to rejoice or despair that the cocoon still hadn't been found.

Of no more attacks where skin and bone and muscle was scooped away like soft icing.

Of missing him. Again.

* * *

Min and Rel met Salome at the school. It was the first time they'd been back, deciding to finally 'go have a look.' None of them commented that it was a year to the day since they'd received their injuries.

Min's warped bones had been removed, replaced with titanium bolted onto the still-normal sections they were able to keep. She'd used her time in physical therapy well. It would take at least another year of occupational therapy before she could use that hand with ease. Salome had recommended her OT to Min. She'd been back at the bakery after just a few months, able to bake almost as well as she had before she'd lost pieces of her hands.

Rel had just one more surgery - but it was always 'just one more surgery' - until he could ditch his oxygen. His lungs had atrophied between the first few surgeries, having to be sedated and intubated between each one. He chose to sling a thin metal oxygen tank over his shoulder with a nylon strap, rather than hauling the more advanced mobile pumps around. He said it was because the tank was more obvious, so no one would ask about a 'weird camera bag' with tubes coming out of it. Refilling a metal tank was also cheaper than the upkeep on one of the machines.

A year to the day, they stood in front of the school, the woods at their backs. The sunshine was bright, unfairly bright, but they felt protected from the evil memories that haunted the stones of the school.

They pushed through carefully, more carefully than they ever had, and made their way to the gym. The wood was more rotted. The rubble was more broken. Everything was decaying and breaking down, just as it should.

No cocoon.

No plastic toy covered in fake pink fur.

No body.

They only stayed a few moments before turning around again. There was nothing here for them but regret. They carried enough of that with them.

Rel and Min came to Salome's house. They sat around her coffee table, couch and chair pulled close, food going cold and drinks going warm as they sat with each other silently.

The room started to grow dim. Salome got up and flipped on a few lights and turned on some monotonous music of a vague variety. Despite the perfectly edible sandwiches on the table, still untouched, they agreed to order food.

It took them two hours to decide what to order. They agreed they should order _something_ , but none of them had the energy to care exactly what that something was.

Pizza. Pizza was a safe bet, easy to store when they inevitably let it go cold, easy to heat back up whenever they actually felt like eating again. Salome prodded her phone with her knuckle - the phone had an easier time recognizing her knuckle as human over her mangled finger - and put in an order for an extremely large, extremely bland cheese pizza.

Thirty minutes.

She put away the untouched sandwiches and traded out the warm drinks for cold water, anxious and itchy. Either she wanted to be completely still, or she wanted to move so much she'd never have to stop and think about the fucked up shit that had happened in the past year. Past _years_. Two years here, and the one not-dream year in Thedas that had only taken 15 minutes of this world's time.

Salome almost dropped her glass of water when someone started pounding on her door. Heavy fists rapidly pummeled the thick wooden door.

" _Shit!_ " Rel's curses were breathy and weak, but he tried to deliver them with gusto. "What, the fuck, was that?"

Paprika barked worriedly from Min's lap. "Paprika, it's okay, honey, it's okay!" Min gently stroked Paprika's head. The heavy knocking, and Paprika's barking, continued.

" _Hang on a second!_ " Salome yelled. A brief emotion - anger - flashed through her. Why the fuck was this pizza guy wailing on her door like it had insulted him? She held the pizza money in her hand, angrily wishing she was the kind of person who would hold back tip money for such batshit behavior, and opened the door.

The fold of green bills fell from Salome's hand.

He was breathless, wide-eyed, and pale. He was covered in dust and dirt and dried blood. His hair was a mess. A hole had been ripped through the stomach of his shirt. He clutched something annoyingly pink to his chest with a trembling hand.

He stepped through the door, his legs shaking, staring at her with warm eyes that were already filled with tears.

"I don't know how I got here, Salome."

She covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. He stared at her mangled, wretched hands, his tears breaking and drawing clean lines through the grime on his face. He dropped the pink toy, the crash of plastic loud and sharp, and reached his hands towards hers.

"I tried," she choked out from behind her palms. "I tried to get you out."

He gently took her hands, pulling them away from her face, staring at the lines and divots that shouldn't have been there. His fingers left dirt on her hands. He nodded, closing his mouth tight, tears dripping down his face onto the floor.

"Sis?" Rel's wheeze came from over her shoulder. "Is, that..."

Min stood next to Rel, Paprika grunting in her arms. "Oh my god... _Alistair..._ "

He held Salome's warped hands in his filthy ones. He looked up, streaks of clean skin cutting pale, root-like patterns across his cheeks. "I promise it's just _me_."

They all stood in the hallway, the chirping of frogs and crickets drifting with the humidity through the open door at Alistair's back. Headlights came up the road and started to pull up next to Salome's house.

"Pizza's here," Rel puffed. "Better get, out of the, hallway."

* * *

Salome led Alistair to the couch while Min and Rel took care of receiving their pizza from the delivery driver. She thought she heard Min apologize for 'the awkwardness,' but the driver didn't seem to mind. "Not the weirdest I've seen tonight." They turned away quickly, more pizzas to deliver to potentially weirder places.

She slid her glass in front of Alistair, but his hands wouldn't steady long enough to let him pick it up. She helped him drink, the water taking a crescent of grime off of his cracked lips.

"I don't know how I got here," he said again, voice cracking even as the water tried to soothe his throat. "One second I was standing looking into that..." He closed his eyes tightly, clasping his hands so they would shake a little less. "Then I was in front of your door."

Her buried his face in his hands, smearing grime back into the clean tracks of his skin, turning to muck. Salome placed a hand on his shoulder. He lifted a hand to hers, as he would have any time, and gritted his teeth when he felt the damage her hands had suffered.

" _Why_ ," he asked through his clenched teeth. "Why did this happen? What god did I piss off enough to earn this?" He shook his head over and over. "To get thrown from my world to this one, to have to live two worlds, to have to fight that _thing_ , to have to...to become...and then return here _like this_? What...what sin am I paying for?"

The hissing from Rel's tank cut a steady tone. He took as deep a breath as he could. "Maybe you're, just lucky."

Alistair's brief smile shattered into weeping. Salome wrapped her arms around him as best she could, her cheek pressed into his shoulder blade as he hunched over his knees. "It's okay, you're gonna be okay," she said quietly.

"Yes. It _is_ going to be okay." Min's voice was so confidently cheery that Salome and Rel turned to look at her.

"Glad to see, someone's, optimistic," Rel puffed.

"Not just optimistic, Rel. _Positive_." Min reached out and set the pink Furby on the coffee table. "Wake up, Furb." She slapped the Furby on its head hard, like ringing a bell at a service counter.

Salome's eyes drifted to Min to give her a skeptical look, but snapped back to the old toy as its eyes flew open and its ears wiggled.

"Whaaaaaaaoh," the electronic voice wailed. "Oh, _oh!_ It worked! _It worked_!" Whirring motors let Furb wobble in a circle, looking at everyone. "I am _so_ _glad_ to see all of you!"

Salome stared at the pink toy. "Furb...if you're here...does that mean...it's... _he's_..." Rel flinched, hand unconsciously going to his side where another rib reconstruction had been done just a month before.

Furb's plastic eyelids clacked and its ears pointed up. "No more demons from other worlds! Not from me, at least. Nope, Hraneth the Formless One is back in the dimension it belongs in -"

"So, Hell?" Rel asked with a wheezing chuckle.

"- and no other hitchhiking parasites are present!" Furb warbled in triumph and waggled his ears. "We did it!"

Rel coughed. "Yeah bud, we sure, did it."

"What if it happens again?" Alistair lifted his head, his tears smeared in muddy splotches on his face.

Furb's gears whirled. "No, Hraneth definitely can't come back here, I made sure."

"Not just _him_ ," Alistair said, staring at the ground. "This. Being flung to other worlds. Having to fight monster after monster." His hand tightened on Salome's. "Having to lose each other over and over again."

"But you found each other again!" Furb whined, eyes wide in distress.

"We are nothing but _playthings_ to you," Alistair said bitterly, his anger focusing on the neon pink toy in front of him. " _You_ must be the god I pissed off, because so far _you're_ the one who's caused _all of this_."

"What?!" Furb wailed. "What are you saying?!"

" _Everyone!_ " Min's voice doused the argument that was ready to ignite. They turned their attention on her. "I already told all of you, _it's going to be okay_."

"Like fuck it is, Min!" Salome shook her head at Min's cheery smile.

"It is." She looked at each of them in turn. "We're here. We're at the end. We've seen this story through to its conclusion." She nodded her head. "There's just one thing left."

"Left? What the fuck is _left_ , Min? We'll all live happily ever after? Or will everyone just up an die all at once, like fucking _Hamlet,_ huh?!" Salome still had her arms around Alistair, which was a good thing because at the moment she wanted to do nothing less than punch her cheery goth friend in her smiling face. "What the fuck else do we have to _do_ to get some fucking _peace_?!"

" _You_ don't have to do a thing," Min waved her hand at Salome, Rel, and Alistair, shaking her head. “This last part is up to me and Furb.”

Furb widened his eyes and wiggled his ears in surprise. “Me?”

Min nodded, gently setting Paprika on the floor and folding her hands in her lap. “Furb, you’re a bad Author.”

Furb lowered his ears. “It...it wasn’t _that_ bad of a story, was it?”

"No, Furb, I don't think you understood me." Min picked up the pink toy and held it out in front of her. “I am declaring you a failed Author, Furb.”

"A failed..." Furb’s eyes widened more, and his ears rapidly wiggled. “What?! You’re, you’re a…?!” Min stared hard at the toy, and it began to wail in its high electronic voice. “I’ll be good! I promise!" The pink toy's electronic wails rose to a fever pitch. "I’ll go back to training! I won’t do any more stories! Please!”

Salome's skin broke out in goosebumps. "Min, what are you doing?"

Min looked at Salome sadly. “My job,” she said with a sigh. She turned back to Furb. “I believe you when you say you’re willing to go back to training. But you fucked up pretty badly.”

“But, but, but can I appeal?! Can I throw myself on the mercy of the Publishing House?! Please!”

Min stared at Furb, appraising him. “You’d throw yourself at the Publishing House’s mercy? _And_ go back to training?”

Salome's arms tightened around Alistair. Furb had mentioned something about that, back when he had first been transferred into the toy, when it was describing the world or dimension or whatever-the-fuck it came from. Where there were _billions_ of Authors. And others...not just Authors...

Min could only know about the Publishing House if she knew about Authors.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes, I promise!” Furb’s voice scratched with static as the electronics pushed to keep up with his begging.

“Will you still accept your punishment, which has been decided and will be administered by myself?”

“Yes! As long as I’m not a, a, a, a _failed_ Author, I’ll do whatever I have to!”

Rel, Salome, and Alistair glanced at each other. Salome shook her head slightly. Whatever was happening involved the powers Furb had displayed, the same powers that Hraneth the Formless One had wielded against them. The same powers that maybe, just maybe, ran through Min, too. If Min was an Author, or one of the other things Furb had mentioned as he excitedly told her about a world she had no interest in understanding, then they definitely couldn't afford to make any wrong moves.

Min smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that!" She cleared her throat and held Furb out at arm's length. "Then I, Editor 389249, current name Yae Yung-Min, sentence you, Author 698756216879, current name Furb, to three hundred years’ confinement and, upon your release, retraining as an Author.”

Furb lowered his ears and eyelids in his closed approximation of a bow. “Thank you, I am humbled by your mercy!”

Min’s smile grew, and she kissed Furb on the top of his fluffy head and held him out in her cupped palms. “I’m so proud of you! This really is the right step for you. And we've had so much fun together already!" She beamed at him. "I’m going to love having you as a tattoo.”

One of Furb’s ears lifted in confusion.

Salome’s gaze was drawn to Min's hands. One of Min's fingers was breaking apart, not as if it were flesh and blood, but instead as if it were pixels gently floating away from one another, a deep emerald light shining through the pale dots. The freed pixels gently swirled around Furb’s body, landing as softly as snow.

Furb made an electronic shriek as both of Min’s hands burst into a whirlwind of pixels, surrounding Furb and illuminating him in emerald light. His shriek rose as the pale pixels landed heavier and heavier on his fur until they obscured him. They began to solidify, his voice growing faint. More and more the pixels shrank and solidified. Details emerged, a fingernail there, a freckle here, until the bundle of pixels had resolved into Min's plump hands clasped together. She spread her hands open wide.

Furb was gone.

Min wiggled her fingers and smiled. “Ta-dah! How's that for some magic?"

Min stood, and all three of them tensed. Whatever Min was, it was something that Furb had been _terrified_ of. Something that could overpower an _Author_ was something that could _annihilate_ three mortals.

But Min paid them no attention. "Let’s see where he ended up…” The librarian looked up and down her legs, then her arms. She squinted at one section of the sleeve of tattoos on her right forearm. “Aha! Here he is!”

All three of them shrank back from her when Min held her arm out. Min pouted. “I thought you guys were going to be cool about this. You’re getting weirded out _now_? After everything we’ve seen and been through over the past few days? Come on, it’s me! Min!”

“What the _hell_ did you just do?!” Salome shouted back.

“What _are_ you?!” Rel asked, eyes locked on Min.

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Min asked, confused. “I’m an Editor.”

“What the _fuck_ is an-” Rel started.

Salome cut him off. “You’re the same kind of being as Furb?”

Min nodded. “Yes! And my job is an Editor, so I monitor the Authors-”

“Of _course._ We should have known that there’s more of them _,_ ” Alistair sighed. In spite of his tense tone, he sounded closer to himself than he had been a few minutes ago.

Min looked confusedly at Salome. “I thought Furb would have told you that by now...that’s usually part of the protocol when stories go ‘off the rails,’ so-to-speak.”

“He mentioned it, but I didn’t want to hear the details…” She admitted. “Then Hraneth the Formless Fucking Bastard showed up in my living room a minute later so it fell down on the list of priorities…”

Min pouted again. “Darn. Well, do you have the gist? Semi-omnipotent, semi-immortal, cross-dimensional beings? The Publishing House? Carefully weaving the stories of all beings lives throughout all dimensions? All of that?”

“Yeah, but -”

“You _fuck_ with people’s _lives_?! _Why?!_ ” Rel shouted hoarsely, devolving into coughs and hacks as he tried to catch his breath.

Salome looked worryingly at her brother struggling to steady his breathing. “Maybe _don’t_ answer that question just yet. The answer’s just going to piss everyone off.”

Min tilted her head, confused until she snapped her fingers. “Oh, don't tell me...” Min held up her forearm and pointed. “Did _this_ jerk say our weaving of stories was ‘just for fun?’”

The bright pink image of a terrified Furby, it’s eyes and beak open wide, was inked onto Min’s arm. It blended in with the rest of Min’s creepy-cute tattoos. It looked like it had been there for years.

Salome nodded slowly. Min groaned in frustration. “Of _course_ he would have been that reductive.” Min angled her forearm so the frightened Furby faced her and wagged her finger sternly at the tattoo. “You are _definitely_ taking extra classes in that during your retraining.”

“So, why _are_ you messing with people's lives?” Salome asked, her curiosity overcoming her fear of the not-human librarian in front of them.

“Essentially, it’s to balance the worlds, keep them on their overall paths, maintain their destinies.” Min turned and plopped into the armchair she had been sitting in. “The longer we live, the more we see. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean we see _more_. More of the connections between the worlds, infinite and infinitesimal. More of the tapestry of time and all the threads that weave it. More risks and terrors that would cause it all to crumble. If the worlds aren’t in balance, everyone and everything falls. Including us.”

“But you’re not all Authors and Editors and Publishing House...people...right?”

Min nodded enthusiastically. “Right! There are ways we help maintain the balance of all of the worlds that _don’t_ affect the beings who live in them, such as nudging the various versions of physics to develop properly for each world. I’ve seen a world where physics _doesn’t even exist_ . Can you imagine that? _No_ physics, not just the lack of studying it, but the lack of _physics itself_! It’s incredible. Oh, I guess you can’t imagine that…But imagine if you _could_ imagine it!” Min’s eyes sparkled and she twined her fingers together.

“Get back to, the _fucking, with people’s, lives,_ part,” Rel hissed, his breaths coming out short again. “How does, _that,_ maintain the, fucking multiverse or, whatever?”

Min shook her head. “It’s due to the Butterfly Effect, or the Ripple Effect, or whatever you want to call it. An action, no matter how small, makes a huge impact on increasingly bigger things. Meaning _every_ action is important. I think the phrase is ‘the beating of a butterfly’s wings can cause a typhoon’ or something like that.” 

“Don’t see how, a butterfly could do that,” Rel wheezed.

Min gestured towards Alistair. “Furb didn’t think about the effect that taking Alistair from his original world could have. Authors are _always_ supposed to consult the Publishing House before transplanting entities from different worlds, even connected or concentric ones. Furb went rogue and removed Alistair from Thedas before properly disconnecting him, and he took a tiny piece of the Formless One’s prison with him, setting it free. And look at what happened _here_ because of that.”

Rel didn’t respond, but he carefully turned the knob on his metal tank to let more oxygen flow to him through the tube that hung below his nose. He hoped he was suffering from oxygen deficiency, although he knew that the past year had been all too real.

“You aren’t immune from this effect, are you?” Alistair asked slowly. He had stopped shaking, but he swayed a little, the retreating shock and fear leaving behind exhaustion.

“Correct.” Min nodded solemnly. “Because we’re able to see the _very_ long-term effects of practically _everything_ , we feel that it is our duty to maintain the best outcome for all worlds overall.”

Rel stood up. “That’s it. I’m done with, this _shit_. I’m done with, supernatural, paranormal, fantasy, freaky-ass shit. I’m, going home and, sleeping and, pretending none, of this ever, happened when I, wake up.” He shakily sat back down, wracked with coughs as he spoke too fast for his oxygen to keep up.

Salome looked at her brother with worry. “Rel, this happened. You can’t just ignore it.” She shook her head. “Trust me, I tried that for over a year with my ‘dream.’ You don't feel better, just unhinged.”

Rel wheezed, unable to form a response just yet, but looked lost. As lost as Salome had been the first year she was back from Thedas. As lost as Alistair had been when he'd regained his memories.

“Actually,” Min said gently. “I _could_ erase this from your conscious memories. Properly. If you want. It really _would_ just feel like a dream.”

Salome stared at Min. “Is...is that what happened to me?”

Min nodded sadly. “It’s standard protocol, especially when you have an ending that’s so violent. We’ve found that framing it as a dream is healthiest for most beings.”

“So you made me feel insane _on purpose_? Because it was ‘healthiest?!’”

“ _No_ , not at all!” Min said quickly, waving her hands. “Furb didn’t properly tie up your story, remember? He went rogue. He prevented the conclusionary aspect of this story's framework, which allowed him to go further than his current protocols and powers were supposed to allow.”

Salome shook her head in exasperation. "The conclusio- _what_?"

"Conclusionary aspect, the part that neatly ties up the story and ends it. It depends on the protagonist and the story as to which aspect to use. Your story should have ended with you meeting someone _from here_ and forming a relationship that would allow you to let go of..." Min gestured awkwardly.

Alistair cleared his throat."Me."

Min nodded, wincing. "Yes. Sorry. _But_ , Furb outwitted the conclusionary aspect by bringing _Alistair_ here, forcing the story to continue well past its end point."

Alistair sat up straighter. “So, what of mine, then?”

Min blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Furb told me that, because of Salome, I was an ‘extra character’ in Thedas. Assuming that everything Salome did in Thedas was part of this 'story' he was concocting, what was _my_ 'conclusionary aspect' to be?"

Min shrugged. "I dunno. I didn't have the clearance for that part. Sorry."

Alistair looked at Min in confusion. "Then...then how does anyone know where I'm supposed to be? How do you know whether I'm supposed to be back in Thedas, or if I'm supposed to die here? If I'm here, I assume it means I’m not...needed...there. But if my being here let Furb get through some kind of loophole with this conclusion thing, shouldn’t I, aren’t I _supposed_ to go back?”

“Do you _want_ to go back?” Min asked pointedly.

Alistair looked at Salome, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, staring at her feet instead. She’d forgotten it was even a possibility for him to return to Thedas, to just become some fictional bundle of code and recording again, separating them permanently. She knew he wanted to honor the Grey Warden oath, which might mean leaving. She knew she wanted to tell him to fuck the Grey Warden oath and stay. But this was his decision, and Salome wouldn't make it harder for him to make his choice.

“Can I ask one question?” Salome heard Alistair say.

“You can ask a thousand questions, no arbitrary limits,” Min said, amusement in her voice.

“Is everything alright there? Without me?”

Min laughed. “Is that it? Yeah, things are totally fine.” Alistair shifted next to Salome. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean… You’re _missed_ , Alistair, but Furb threw that world into a completely different trajectory - _off the rails,_ may I remind you - and luckily for you, Furb _was_ able to set it up so that you could leave with very little impact _on future events_ after you left. They remember you, they miss you, but they’re able to move forward. I’m not sure that you being there would have been beneficial after the point where you left...ah! Sorry! Fell back into 'work-speak.' Um, so basically, yes, everything’s fine.”

He let out a breath slowly. “So, I can stay, and it won’t cause the complete destruction of all of Thedas?”

Min’s voice was kind. “The only way that _all_ of Thedas would be destroyed would be if the writers in _this_ world decided to do so. Which is _not_ on you.”

Alistair nodded his head a few times, then sighed with relief. "Good, because I was going to feel _very_ guilty about abandoning my world and causing its destruction."

Salome's arms tightened around Alistair, and he leaned into her embrace.

Min smiled at them and nodded in approval. "So, how do you want to play this?"

"Play what?" Rel had regained most of his breath, shoulders tensed at Min's question.

" _This_." Min waved her plump hands around. Salome saw flashes of panicked pink on her forearm. "Where do you want to go from here? Do you want to forget this all ever happened? Remember it forever? Get a timeline do-over so it never actually happened? We've got options."

They glanced at each other in confusion.

Min clapped her hands once. "Maybe an example'll help. Let's say we decide that you'll all get healed, and everyone in this town'll forget everything that happened except for the three of _you_. That's one option. But let's say you'd rather it never happened at all - everyone gets healed and everyone forgets. That's another option. You could just let everything stand as-is, complete with creepy demon attacks. Or you could go back to two years ago, before Salome met Alistair in this world, and we could set you on different trajectories. This story has a few options that we can pursue without causing any major disruptions to other stories and worlds."

"Maybe the erasing, memories, eh? Ignorance, is bliss, right?" Rel shrugged. "Definite yes, on the healing, though. This is, _bullshit_."

Salome shifted to look at Alistair's face. "I wouldn't mind not going through a year of feeling like I'm having a breakdown, but...I don't want to forget who Alistair is, or what we went through together."

He smiled at her, his teeth bright against the mess of dirt and tears on his face. "I'd like to keep those memories, too." He squeezed her hand. "But I second the sentiment on healing."

Min nodded. "All very compelling arguments, but you can only choose one ending. Make it up if you like, but it has to happen for all of this to end. So, what'll it be?"

* * *

They chose to remember. They had been through too much to choose to go back to their old way of seeing their world.

They chose for all others to forget. The hospital staff, the victims, the citizens, even the animals - all would forget that Hraneth the Formless One, demon from another dimension, had terrorized them.

They chose healing for all. The former victims who had lost pieces of their bodies were made whole, without any indication that they had once been missing a piece of their brain, or shoulder, or spleen. Rel wanted to breathe fully again, to return to his life as a firefighter and to ditch the oxygen tank until he was 'good and ready to be an old geezer.' As much as she had gotten used to her altered hands, Salome was glad to have the missing pieces back, and to have the imprints of Hraneth's touch erased from her skin. Memory of that was _more_ than enough. Min checked over Alistair and found that, other than being in desperate need of a bath, he was unharmed. Or rather, already healed. However Furb had rescued him, he'd been able to do it _and_ heal Alistair at the same time.

And, to Min's great relief, they liked the idea of her staying in their world. She liked it, too, very much. She was capable of going off and performing her duties as Editor, then returning to much more pleasant activities like running a library or having friends.

* * *

A year.

A year of living in peace.

A year of living without fear of a monster bringing harm on them.

A year of knowing about the world of Authors and Publishing Houses and Editors.

Of gathering around a coffee table for pizza and shortbread-and-jam cookies.

Of not having surgeries and of having the missing pieces of their bodies returned.

Of privately mourning what they had been through together.

Of praying that it would never, really and truly would _never_ happen again.

Of fearing that everything would go wrong again.

But it never did.

After that year came another. And another. As more years passed by, their fears shrank and their joys grew.

Their stories continued without interruption from Authors.

They had more than earned their conclusion.


	21. Thanks and Acknowledgements!

Thank you so much for reading my fic! (And thank you even more for taking the time to read this section!)

I will not lie, it got REALLY hard to write at the end. The last bit of story was tough to pull together, and even tougher because I really didn't feel like writing.

Don't worry, _not_ writing haunted me every day. A lot of life (including a creative block) got in the way of me actually sitting down to write it. What started off in Safeguard as a Modern Girl in Thedas story ended up taking its own further trajectories. Overall, it's been a lot of fun! A definite slog at the end, but still fun.

BIG thanks to ShadowSparrow and candlewhacks for the lovely comments - they seriously helped me come back and finish this up!

Thank you for coming on this absolutely batshit journey of a story with me! I hope you had fun along the way!

Much love,

~Breaker


End file.
